


Three Little Birds

by FairiesMasquerade



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Horror, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairiesMasquerade/pseuds/FairiesMasquerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She didn't hear anything. No voices from inside the prison, no walkers, no birds in the trees, not even the wind made a sound. Without speaking, they both turned, aimed their weapons and stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching the tree line. Something was coming." Caryl. Post S3 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Storm is Coming

**Three Little Birds**

_**Rating:** M_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, for I am not worthy. I swear, I just wanna play with the toys!_

_**Spoilers:** Post S3 finale_

_**A/N:** I woke up with this idea in my head around 3am one morning, and it wouldn't let me go. I initially posted it over on FF.net and tumblr well before the S4 trailer came out, so that hasn't affected this tale at all. This is going to be violent. There will be blood, and angst, and a smashing of feelings. I apologize in advance. Hopefully, I make you feel something.  
_

_This is for Noxid Anamchara, the first Caryl-er I met online who was willing to befriend and actually speak to me.  
_

* * *

 

The sky was green.

Carol sat below the railing of the watchtower, one arm hooked over the railing, the other cradling her rifle as her legs dangled over the side. She almost felt like a big kid with her legs swinging in the air, but the weight of the rifle kept her grounded. That, and the air so thick she almost choked on it. Her stomach was tight with a feeling she couldn’t quite put a name to and she scanned the line of trees continuously, just waiting. It was her least favorite thing about watch, the constant waiting, but she wanted to pull her weight and she was good enough with the rifle now that Rick was comfortable with her taking watch solo. They all took watch more often - herself, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Michonne. Tyrese and Sasha were both willing but Rick didn’t trust any of the newcomers to run watch yet. So Carol sat as she had for the last 4 hours, eyes shifting between the tree line and the ever darkening sky.

Tornado weather. _Balls_ , Carol thought. _That’s the last thing we need right now._ The sky was dark enough that, even though it was only lunch, Hershel had corralled everyone inside the prison to camp out in the common area where they ate their meals. Carl and Glenn had spent much of the last hour barricading the windows. Everyone was fairly certain they were going to see an actual tornado today. Carol was more worried about the people who weren’t here, so she continued to sit on watch. Waiting and worrying on the people not nestled in the relative safety of the prison.

Six months. Six months since the fight with the Governor had ended in so much spilled blood, since the survivors Rick had rounded up had come to live at the prison. Six months of relative peace and quiet, until this morning Maggie had come running down from her tower where she’d been sitting her turn on watch, swearing she’d seen one of the Woodbury jeeps just outside the treeline. Rick had jumped at the chance to “end this madness”, as he put it, and now they were outside hunting the Governor. Rick, Maggie, Michonne, Daryl. Rick and Maggie in one of the cars, Daryl and Michonne on foot. Carol swore she could hear the echoes of Glenn and Maggie’s fight still ringing through the prison halls; it had been their longest and loudest one ever. Glenn had wanted to go, but had wanted Maggie to stay behind. Rick had wanted them both to stay, but Maggie had argued that she had a personal reason for hunting the man down and had surprisingly been backed by Michonne. Maggie had jumped in Rick’s car without another word, leaving Glenn screaming furiously behind her. Carol had sighed and simply nodded when Rick asked her to go sit on watch until they came back. She’d walked by Daryl and stopped briefly to smile at him. “I’ll loan you one of my nine lives, but just this one time,” she’d grinned at him. Daryl had rewarded her with a smirk and replied “Keep it. Just-”

“I know,” she’d said softly. “You too, okay?” A nod was all she got in return, and up the watch tower she’d gone. Four hours ago and the sky was getting darker by the minute and the knot in her stomach was getting worse. She _hated_ this. Hated being the one left behind while he was out there with God knows what chasing him. There were steps on the stairs behind her and she turned to see a somber Glenn climb up to her perch.

“Hanging in there, tiger?”

“Ha freaking ha,” Glenn mumbled. “Can I please punch Carl?”

Carol sighed. “What did he do this time?”

“Typical Carl nonsense. Trying to be all adult and ending up just being a pain in the ass. I swear he’s the one we should be calling mini-Shane.” Glenn settled down next to Carol, legs crossed in front of him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the wind brush their faces.

“I don’t like that sky,” Glenn muttered.

“Me either. I was hoping they would be back by now.”

“Me too.”

She looked at Glenn and was taken aback at how much older he seemed to her. _If he’s looking older, I don’t even wanna know how bad I look these days_. Life with Ed had made her look much older than her 42 years before the apocalypse had reigned chaos down on their heads. She hadn’t had regular access to a mirror for a while, her appearance taking a backseat to days full of cooking, organizing, watching Ass-kicker; clearing the fences of walkers with the others, arms aching as she drove the large hunting knife Daryl had given her down over and over again; target practice, minutes blending into hours in a clatter of bullets; working with Daryl on unarmed combat _(always Daryl, never Tyrese even though he’d offered to help her, but Daryl had almost torn the man’s head off later that night. He didn’t know Carol had heard about that incident thanks to Beth)_ , the screaming ache of her body pushed to breaking point just so she could feel _something_ , feel as if... Carol exhaled slowly, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with a tension she couldn’t source.

“You ok?”

Carol jumped about a mile; lost in her reverie, she’d forgotten Glenn was there. “Yeah, I’m just... worried. You know me,” she said with a shrug. Glenn just nodded and they both turned back to watch the sky.

The green, ever darkening sky.

Carol rolled her neck and felt the bones crack and pop as she moved. Glenn grinned.

“That’s how you get arthritis, you know.”

“Very funny,” Carol smiled back. “Are we crazy?”

Glenn sighed and turned around to he leaned back against the railing, facing the prison behind them. “Yeah I think we are crazy,” he said. “I’m crazy for letting Maggie go out there without me, crazy for living in a freaking prison, crazy for sitting here with a sudden case of the willies. Dude, we’re all crazy these days.”

"Have you figured it out yet?" She asked him as she leant forward, leaning on her hands and tilting her face up to the dark sky. The knot in her stomach was getting tighter but she was determined to ignore it for the moment.

"No. I keep thinking about Maggie.”

“Anything about Maggie in particular or just your epic showdown this morning?”

“Epic, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure if there was anybody left over at Woodbury they would have heard the yelling.”

“Ouchville, population: me,” Glenn laughed. “Sorry about that.”

Carol huffed a laugh and gently bumped his shoulder with her own. “C’mon. Talk to me.”

“Love, Maggie, all of it, “Glenn said.  "We’re in the apocalypse. Like, civilization has actually ended and we’re waiting for a madman to bring war to our front door and I proposed to my girlfriend in the middle of all of this. What the hell is wrong with me?”

Carol smiled, her first real smile of the day. “I like that you proposed.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Carol laughed. “It gives the rest of us hope.”

“Hope for what?” Glenn turned to look at her. Carol reached out and took his hand, suddenly so full of love for her young friend.

“Hope for a real future, of having a life for ourselves in the midst of all of this. Remember what Rick said the day we lost the farm? It isn’t just about survival. There needs to be a future, some kind of life for all of us, or else why struggle so hard to survive? We need to live, not just survive. Loving is part of living.” Carol gave Glenn’s hand a squeeze before she released it to rest again on the butt of her rifle. Glenn was silent for a moment, clearly thinking about what she had just said, as they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

“We’ll have to go in soon,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Glenn replied. “5 more minutes. It’s kind of nice out, even with the sky going all evil on us.”

Carol chuckled at that. It _was_ sort of nice out. Even though the sky was growing ever darker, the wind hadn’t picked up much and was nothing more than a light breeze on her skin. The prison was quieter than she had ever heard it, with not even the groans of walkers to distract her today. There were none by the gate; in fact, there were no walkers anywhere Carol could see, a first since they had come to the prison, and it piqued her attention. She should have noticed that before. _Stupid_ , she cursed herself.

“Hey Glenn,” she whispered and _why the hell was she whispering?_ The air wasn’t sitting right and it wasn’t the threat of a tornado anymore. “There are no walkers. None.”

Glenn looked then, really looked, and suddenly stood up. Carol could see the same tension that had been curling her stomach all day suddenly fill Glenn’s face.

"Its not quite our usual, I agree.” Now they were both whispering and the surrounding silence, so different from the constant noise provided by the walkers that usually combed the fence, was unnerving her deep in her bones. _Something’s wrong and it isn’t the weather._

"Do you know why?"

“No,” Glenn whispered. “And that’s what worries me.”

Another moment passed and Carol suddenly stood, her left hand clinging to the railing. “How crazy are we? There are no walkers around and that is what worries us?” She’d meant it to come out as a joke but it came out a choked whisper, full of fear. Glenn looked at her and she knew the fear in his eyes was reflected in hers. That was when she realized that she didn’t hear anything. No voices from inside the prison, no walkers, no birds in the trees, not even the wind made a sound. W _ow I really suck at watch._ Without speaking, they both turned, aimed their weapons and stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching the tree line.

Something was coming.

 

* * *

Daryl kept one eye on the ground in front of him, following the faint car tracks through the mud. The other watched the sky as it grew greener and darker. His shoulder was fucking killing him, a sure sign of bad weather to come. His old man had dislocated his left arm when he was 14 during a drunken rage. Daryl waited until he’d passed out then, knowing they had no way to pay for anything if he’d try to go to the hospital, and had Merle help him pop the joint back in place. Neither one had done anything like that before, and they had done it wrong the first time. Daryl remembered screaming in agony, the pain as bad as the old man pulling the damn thing out had been. Merle had been forced to pull the arm back out of the socket in order to push it back in at the correct angle. Daryl had passed out during the second attempt. His arm had worked all right since, but every time bad weather came up it ached like a bitch. _Fuckin’ human barometer._

Michonne was at his back, sword drawn, eyes scanning the area around them. Daryl had to give her credit for being as quiet as she was in the woods. She made a decent tracking partner, light years better than Rick, who Daryl swore made it a point to step on every single fucking twig and dry leaf he could find.

The hum of a motor reached his ears and he ducked into a low bush, Michonne right on his heels. It took a moment for the green Hyundai to swing into view and Daryl sighed, dropping his crossbow and taking a moment while Michonne flagged down Rick and Maggie to rub his aching shoulder. It reminded him of Carol.

_Wanna screw around?_

Fuck yes, he wanted to screw around. He’d wanted to screw around since the damn farm but there was no way he could tell her that. How could he tell her that? He was a novice, a fucking 40-year old virgin in the flesh, survival taking precedence over women. _Not to mention ain’t no way I was gonna fuck any a’ Merle’s castoffs. Sloppy seconds, my ass._ Carol wasn’t like any woman he’d ever been around before. She was soft and graceful. She smiled and tried to take care of him and everyone else ( _but mostly him_ , a thought that made his belly squirm with delight). In the past year she’d become the best friend he’d ever had. Daryl knew, he fucking _knew_ , that there was more between them than friendship and he knew that Carol knew it too. It wouldn’t just be screwing around with them, and that had scared him shitless for a long time. Thing is, he felt like he was ready now. Had been ready since he left with Merle and had only made it about a quarter mile before he knew he’d had to go back for Carol and the group. It was always Carol and the group; Carol separate and always first before anyone else. Daryl knew what it meant and he was ready now. Trouble was, how the fuck did he make that jump? Daryl shook off this line of thinking and moved over to the car where the others were waiting for him.

“Ain’t nothin’ here, man,” he said to Rick. “This is just a dead end once we hit the road here. Can’t track that.” Rick just nodded and ran a hand over his tired face.

“We should call it,” Michonne said quietly. “That sky doesn’t look too friendly.” Maggie nodded and Rick heaved a heavy sigh. _Always gotta be so damn dramatic._

“Let’s head back then,” Rick said. “Get in.”

Michonne wandered around to the other side of the car to get in behind Maggie. Daryl slung his crossbow off his shoulder and was about to get in the car when something stopped him. He froze, ignoring Maggie’s chattering and he listened, all of his attention on the woods around them. _Somethin’s wrong._

Daryl turned at looked back at the trees from where they had come out onto the road. The wind was starting to pick up slightly, but he could still hear the chatter of birds high in the trees above them, the whisper of leaves. Still though, there was something...

“What is it?” Rick was next to him suddenly, leaning into his ear.

“Dunno,” Daryl said. “Jus’ a feelin’... We need to get back. Now.” He knew that would be enough for Rick to get them moving and without another word Daryl jumped in the back seat and pulled his crossbow into his lap. Rick leapt into the driver’s seat and floored it, swinging the car around to head back to the prison with a screech of tires.

“What’s wrong,” Maggie asked from the front seat.

“Can’t you feel it? Somethin’ ain’t right,” Daryl said. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t know why, but he trusted his instincts and loaded his crossbow, knowing Michonne and Maggie were both watching him. The urge to see Carol was suddenly overwhelming; combined with the dread pooling in his stomach, Daryl felt like he was going to be sick and rolled the window down slightly to get some air.

Something was wrong.

 

* * *

Carol looked at the sky again, then grabbed her wrist and took her pulse with a press of her fingers. She wasn’t surprised to find it was racing; her heart was practically jumping in her throat.

Glenn hadn't moved much from his post next to her since they had shouldered their weapons, his head turning side to side, watching the space below them. Has it only been 5 minutes? She let him be, since it seemed that there was nothing she could say that wouldn't be irrelevant, distracting or frivolous. He would glance at her as she shifted slightly, both of them hardly breathing, waiting for something but neither knew what.

As if by an invisible signal, Carol and Glenn both dropped their weapons and relaxed a bit, giant exhales of tension getting lost in the wind as it slowly picked up speed. The bang of a door being slammed open behind them made them both jump and turn, guns at the ready. They watched Carl storm outside, Beth hot on his heels and cradling a sleeping Judith. They could hear Hershel and some of the others yelling from inside the prison. Carol sighed. _And then there’s **that**_ **.** Carl was turning into a serious problem. _Mini-Shane indeed_. They couldn’t hear the words Carl and Beth were yelling at each other but the angry tones carried up to the watchtower. Carol was about to say something when her ears pricked up. Carol felt her heart slam in her chest as all of the tension from before suddenly exploded inside of her. She leaned around Glenn and yelled down to the courtyard “SHUT UP!”

Carl and Beth turned in surprise; Carol was not one for yelling and it caught them off guard. Glenn was at her side in an instant as she leaned back over the railing, clicking the safety off of her rifle and aiming at the trees. It was getting harder to see as the sky got darker but Carol focused all of her attention to the area in front of the prison.

“What is it,” Glenn  muttered as he shouldered and aimed his own weapon.

“Can you hear that?” _A distant hum, low bass, like thunder a long way off._ They listened in silence for a moment, ignoring the clatter of Carl and Beth climbing up the stairs to join them at the railing.

“Is that thunder?” Beth asked.

“No,” Glenn said slowly. “It’s too consistent.”

“A tornado?” Beth held Judith tight to her. Carol wanted to reach out and comfort her but found she was frozen to the spot.

“Not windy enough,” Glenn said, suddenly taking control. “You two get inside. Carl, tell the others to turn the lights off and get down low.”

Carl’s face scrunched with his usual anger. “But-”

“NOW,” Glenn and Carol yelled together. Carl turned to look at Carol for a quick moment. Something in her face must have convinced him, because Carl grabbed Beth and bolted, hurtling them down the stairs and through the open door. She could could hear him start to yell at Hershel before the door slammed shut, leaving Carol and Glenn alone outside again.

“It could be just Daryl and the others coming back,” but as the words left her mouth she knew neither she nor Glenn believed it. The humming sound was getting louder, and there was definite movement in the trees up ahead. Carol didn’t know if she was shaking, or if it was the ground itself.

“It isn’t,” Glenn said. They watched for a moment, weapons raised, when lightning streaked in the storm clouds over the heads, giving them enough light to see what was coming at them from the trees.

“Holy shit.”

From inside the prison, the screaming started.


	2. Massacre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Why do you keep asking me this?
> 
> A/N: Sorry its been so long between updates. The story is finished on FF.net, and I'm just now getting to posting the updates on AO3. This was all written before the S4 premiere, so at this point please consider this AU.

** Chapter 2: Massacre **

They were still at least 5 miles out from the prison, it was dark, the wind was picking up speed and Daryl Dixon was officially pissed off. _I swear to Christ if a damn tornado hits us right now I’m gonna kill Rick._ Daryl was crouched on a thick branch high up From higher up in the tree, he heard muttering. _Maggie._

“I still can’t believe we ran out of gas.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Will you two please shut up?!” Michonne’s angry whisper cut through Rick and Maggie’s arguing, silencing both. Daryl scanned the ground below, crossbow loaded and aimed, hoping that the walkers shifting restlessly on the ground  didn’t hear any of his friends’ stupidity. They’d run out of gas, despite Rick swearing he’d checked the tank before they left, and had been forced to leave behind the Hyundai and trek on foot back to the prison. After about a mile they had stumbled upon the tail end of a large herd, but before Daryl could tell the others to turn around, Maggie had tripped over a tree root and hit the ground with a yelp, drawing the attention of at least 30 walkers. The four of them had bolted back the way they came, climbing up a tree once they had put enough distance between themselves and the walkers. Now they sat, hidden in the branches of their tree, waiting for the herd below them to dissipate enough for them to climb down and finish the walk to the prison.

 _Of all the stupid ass things to happen... Gonna be runnin’ the whole damn way_ , Daryl thought.  The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and it wasn’t because of the herd milling around below him or the threat of a tornado. Every inch of him was screaming with tension and all he could think about was Carol and the feeling he had that something was very, very wrong. He hoped he was wrong.

He waited in the tree and tried to remember how to breathe.

 

* * *

Carol threw herself down the stairs of the watchtower, Glenn hot on her heels and they both ran full out for the door leading inside the prison. Clashing with the sounds of their people screaming was the sharp clatter of bullets. Carol could hardly breathe, her mind still spinning with what she and Glenn had spotted just inside the tree line. The door opened just as they reached it and people began pouring out, many covered in blood and holding each other up. Carol was jostled back and forth as she pushed her way inside. She needed to see for herself.

It was chaos, the stench of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air already thick with smoke. Carol saw 5, maybe 6, figures at the far end of the room, all in black, machine gun blasting. Several tables had been turned onto their sides and Tyrese, Carl and two other younger boys from Woodbury whose names she hadn’t learned yet were kneeling behind them, trying to return fire. The Woodbury people - her people now -  were fighting their way to the door. Carol could see Sasha, a woman with dark frizzy hair _(Karen? Collene? She couldn’t remember_ ) and almost a dozen others lay sprawled between the tables and the Governor’s men, clearly marking the no-man’s land territory between the two groups. Carol slid on her knees like she was sliding into home base and landed next to Carl, doing a quick scan of the fallen. All of them had been dropped with multiple wounds to their bodies, blood pouring from their chests and stomachs. _No heads wounds._  She reached behind Carl and grabbed Tyrese.

“They’re not aiming for their heads,” she yelled. “They want them to turn!” Tyrese looked back over the bodies of his sister and friends and Carol could see the realization hit him.

“We need to go!” he yelled. Carol nodded, grabbed Carl and turned to grab for the boy on her right when another hail of bullets rang out. The boy’s head exploded and Carol was covered in blood and brain tissue. _Shades of Axel_ , she thought frantically, keeping a grip on Carl and running for the door while Tyrese by the tables and Glenn at the door provided cover fire. She shoved Carl out the door and fell outside, gasping for air while her clothes whipped in the ever quickening wind. Tyrese right behind her.

“Go for the east doors,” Glenn was yelling at the people outside, trying to make himself heard over the wind whipping around them and the thunder crashing overhead. “We need cover. Go go go!” As the crowd ran for the doors to the east wing of the prison, Carol turned to Carl.

“Where’s Beth? Where is your sister?”

“I have no fucking clue,” Carl gasped. “I lost them when the shooting started. Carol I swear she was _right next to me_ -”

“Its ok, we’ll find them,” Carol said. Carl clutched her hand and she felt the panic in his grip as they both turned to scan the crowd. Carol had just spotted a blonde head next to the tall figure of Hershel when the cry went up.

“WALKERS!”

Carol spun around to find the crowd had opened the east doors only to have dozens and dozens of walkers pouring outside. Her breath caught in her throat. _We just cleared that section a week ago._ The crowd surged back toward the center of the courtyard. _Exactly what he wants_ , Carol realized at the last minute. The cloud broke over head and suddenly rain was gushing down on them just as the door behind them opened and the Governor’s men broke through, firing upon the crowd scattering in the courtyard. Behind them, more walkers came through the door, these the remnants of their fallen friends. Tyrese opened fire, hitting the walker that had been Sasha square between the eyes before turning to the rest of them.

“We have to abandon the prison,” he yelled at them.

“No,” Carl screamed. “This is our home. We have to fight.” Carl was shooting into the mass of walkers, trying to clear some kind of path while at this back, Glenn was firing at the Governor’s men.

“The prison is lost,” Glenn screamed. “Everyone get the hell out!”

Carol was firing, the adrenaline so high she barely felt the sting as a bullet grazed her left arm. Hearing Glenn’s order, she bolted for the door to Cell Block C, not hearing Glenn and Carl screaming for her to come back, the only thought in her head making sure that Daryl knew she was still alive. She ran through the door, barely noticing the empty cell block now that soldiers and walkers had moved outside. Carol practically flew up the stairs to her cell, the cell she now shared with Daryl, since he’d moved in after the Woodbury folks had arrived. _Need to save space_ , he’d said. She’d just shrugged at him, understanding instantly that she was the only person he’d tolerate sharing with. She’d moved her things to the top bunk without a second thought, knowing Daryl well enough to know he’d want the bottom bunk for himself. _So he can get to his crossbow faster, just in case._ Carol skidded to a half inside her cell; snatching up her hobo bag, she grabbed the knife she kept under her pillow, the pistol and extra rounds they had hoarded together on a whim from the last run (neither of them being able to explain why but both in agreement about having an extra gun in their cell), the bottle of Southern Comfort Daryl kept stashed under his bed for the nights he couldn’t sleep and, lastly, Daryl’s poncho. Carol shoved these supplies into her bag, swung the bag over her shoulder, grabbed her rifle and ran back out the door without a second thought.

Opening the door to go back outside was harder than it should have been, the wind howling hard enough that she had to work to get the door open. Her little excursion to her cell had taken less than two minutes, but already the scene outside was so different. Many people were gone, some escaping through the back gate, but most had fallen. 4 of the governor’s soldiers were down and there were bodies scattered all over. Glenn, Carl and Tyrese were near the back of the courtyard trying to provide enough cover fire for anyone left to escape. Without hesitation, Carol shouldered her rifle and started firing at the walkers, making her way back to where her friends stood.

“Where the hell did you go?!” Glenn screamed. “I’m going to kill you!”

“Just between us, I think there might be a line for that privilege tonight,” Carol yelled back. Hail had started to fall, huge chunks of ice pelting their bodies and covering the ground around them. The wind was screaming now, thunder and lightning crashing overhead, and Carol knew that on top of everything else, a tornado was about to hit them.

A group of 4 former Woodburians was huddled behind a large pillar, and Tyrese moved over to them to give them some cover, leaving Carol, Carl and Glenn together.

“We have to go before those things come through,” Carol cried.

“What things?” Carl yelled. The ground rumbled and Carol thought the tornado had finally landed when suddenly the courtyard was filled with light from the spotlights on top of the tanks that had finally broken through the treeline and opened fire on the survivors on the courtyard.

“Oh my god,” she heard Glenn breathe. They watched helplessly as the three tanks rolled over the fences and into the prison, raining fire upon anything moving. They were out of time. Carol and Glenn each grabbed one of Carl’s arms and ran, stopping only to crawl as fast as possible underneath the gap in the back fence, making a beeline for the trees behind the prison and leaving a massacre behind.

The prison had fallen into the hands of the Governor.

 

* * *

  
The herd had thinned enough for them to take a chance. Daryl, Rick, Maggie and Michonne made their way to a small housing development that they had found a few weeks before, the weather rough enough that they knew they wouldn’t reach the prison now before the tornado hit. They were being slammed with a smattering of rain and hail so harsh it felt like bullets stinging his skin and he could barely make out the houses ahead through the downpour. Daryl had his crossbow in one hand and Maggie’s hand in the other. They were all linked together, holding hands so as not to lose each other in the storm. Stumbling up the steps of the model home, Daryl wrenched the door open and shoved everyone inside before slamming it behind him. The house was empty, the only completed house in the development before the dead had risen. They’d already searched the area, but Daryl knew there was a basement they could hide in. Without a word, he strode to the basement door and flew down the stairs, the others hot on his heels. All four of them huddled under the staircase together, clinging to whatever they could, including each other, and listened as a sound like a freight train surrounded them. Daryl could hear the crash of the windows breaking as the tornado finally swept past them. Dust and bits of wood fell from the beams overhead as the house shuddered and groaned under the stress of the tornado winds. Maggie had his arm in an iron grip, her face buried in his shoulder. Daryl could just make out Rick and Michonne holding onto each other while the house shuddered around them. There was a loud groan, the sound of splintering wood and Daryl had just enough time to throw up his free arm over his head and duck down.

His last thought as as the house collapsed around them was of Carol.

 

* * *

The wind was screaming around them, making it hard to push forward but she just held onto Carl as tight as she could, barely able to see through the rain that Glenn still had a firm grip on Carl’s other side. The three of them ran as fast as they could for the woods. Carol couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She just kept running, not knowing they were running into more horrors.

The second they hit the trees, she was able to see what the sounds of the storm and the gunfire behind her had drowned out. They’d run right into a fucking herd, of all things. Carol thought her heart was going to stop. She could see several who had been lucky enough to make it through the back gate before the tanks had come had run straight into the arms of the undead.

“Keep going and _do not_ let go of each other,” Glenn yelled. He took the lead, pulling Carl and Carol behind him as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd of walkers. Carol’s heart was breaking. She could hear the screams from people around her as the walkers devoured them, but she knew that she couldn’t save any of them. Not this time.  She just kept running, following Glenn’s lead, her bag bouncing off her hip, Carl’s grip on her hand like steel.

Her lungs felt like burning and it was getting to be too hard to push through the wind when Glenn finally stopped as soon as they were clear of the walkers. The three of them all bent over, panting heavily. Carol and Glenn looked at each other over Carl’s head, knowing they had only seconds to stop, if that. There was a madman with an army, a herd and a damn tornado behind them. If Carol hadn’t been so terrified, she’d have laughed.

“Where do we go?” Carl cried out, any semblance of trying to be an adult gone in the face of his terror. He was still clinging to Carol, her hand screaming in his grip. _Pretty sure he’s broken some bones by now._

“The bridge,” Carol gasped out. “There aren’t any houses on this side of the prison. It’s our only chance.” There was an old, small bridge about a quarter mile ahead, part of the road that led back to the highway. Carol hoped that the pillars of the bridge went down into the ground far enough that they could hold onto it while the tornado passed them by. Glenn nodded, knowing it was a long shot but it was the best one they had. Still hanging onto each other, they ran for the bridge.

It was agony, every muscle in Carol’s body screaming from the tension of the fight and having to push past the winds picking up more and more speed. They had just reached the bridge when a roar like a freight train erupted and Carol knew their time was out. She dove under the small bridge and curled herself over Carl’s body, trying to give him as much protection as she could. Glenn was wrapped around the other side of the pillar, his hands over hers, and they clung to the pillar for dear life as the tornado finally touched down and raged around them.

The last thought she had before the darkness hit her was of Daryl.


	3. Eye of the Storm

_“Stay safe.”_

_“Nine lives, remember?”_

Pain. Every bone, every muscle in his body ached and he couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. His nose and throat were full of dust but he could just taste the clean tang of rain splashing down through the pile of rubble onto his face. Daryl groaned and slowly opened his eyes.  Most of the first floor of the house had caved in around them and Daryl could tell the upper floors and the roof were entirely gone; miraculously, the staircase leading into the basement had held, leaving Daryl, Rick, Maggie and Michonne encased in a little pocket amongst the ruins of the house.  _Looks like I got one of your nine lives after all, Carol._

Daryl coughed, trying to clear his throat. He shook his head to see if that would help the ringing in his ears but it just made him dizzy, so he leaned his head back against the wall behind him and breathed slowly; counting four in, four out for each breath while the world slowly righted itself and the ringing slowly faded and normal sound returned. He could hear the pitter-patter of rain now, nothing like the torrential downpour from before, but gentle and soft. Cleansing. The worst of the storm had passed. Now he could hear the shuffles of the others next to him as everyone slowly took sense of their surroundings.

“How the hell did we even survive that?” Maggie asked quietly.

“Does it matter?” replied Michonne.

“Don’ mean nothin’,” Daryl muttered. “Need to get the hell outta here and back t’ the others.” Now that the storm had passed, Daryl’s skin was crawling with anxiety, the instincts that had guided him his entire life screaming at him to get his ass back to the prison. Back home.  _Fuck me, did I just call it home? Shit._

“Do you think the others are ok after that storm?” Maggie’s voice held a tremor of fear and he knew she was thinking of Glenn and the fight they’d had earlier.

“Ain’t the storm I’m worried about,” Daryl said. “Somethin’ ain’t right. Been feelin’ it all day. Not just me, is it.” It wasn’t a question, and the three faces staring back at Daryl mirrored his own anxiety.  _Nope, not just me._

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Rick said.

It took them almost half an hour to dig themselves out of the ruined house. Rick had them sit on the sidewalk outside to take measure of themselves and check for injuries. Other than a few bumps and bruises, none of them had sustained any major injuries. Daryl wasn’t one for miracles but he supposed if anything could count as one, it would be this.

They’d started the 5 mile trek back to the prison at a brisk pace, not quite a run but not fast enough to tire them out either. Daryl’s body was throbbing, the muscles screaming from the stress of the day and his stomach was growling at him. It was just barely mid-afternoon and the sun was starting to peek through the clouds as the rain tapered down to a mere drizzle. The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked trees. On a normal day, this was Daryl’s type of weather and he would have taken the walk much slower to enjoy his surroundings. Today was not a normal day.

_“Nine lives, remember?”_

It kept jumping in his head, Carol’s oft-repeated half joke about having nine lives.  _More like 6 or 7 at this point._ Daryl knew another discussion about her safety was due; it happened every 3 weeks or so. Carol never took enough care of herself, always helping someone somewhere with this, that and the other; doing all the work no one else ever wanted to do on top of tactical lessons, gun training, watch and a hundred other chores and never getting a thank you from anyone for it but never complaining. He worried she was going to work herself to the bone and always snuck portions of his food from his plate to hers when she wasn’t looking. Nine lives.

_What the fuck?_  The crisp, clean air was suddenly tinged with the gritty haze of gunsmoke. Daryl stopped in his tracks and sniffed again.  _Yup, gunsmoke._ It was faint, but it was there. Daryl held up his hand to signal the others to stop.

“Smell that?” he asked them. He waited impatiently while they took a minute to sniff the air. If his heart hadn’t jumped to his throat with fear, Daryl would have laughed at the sight.

“Is that-”

“Smoke,” he confirmed. “Ain’t nothin’ burning. That’s from gunfire, for sure.”

“Oh god,” Rick breathed.

They finished the last 3 miles to the prison at a dead run.

* * *

_Just keep moving. Just keep moving._  Carol was starting to feel a bit like Dory with that simple refrain running through her head over and over again. Her legs ached, lungs burned and she could feel bruises forming all over her body. She had a fierce headache raging and was pretty sure that she had some broken bones in her hand, thanks to Carl’s grip of steel. Her arm was throbbing where she’d been grazed during the melee, but a quick look showed her the damage wasn’t too bad. She’d simply wrapped a piece of fabric (torn from Glenn’s shirt) around her arm and that would have to be that for now.   _Just keep moving._

_“Stay safe.”  
_

_“Nine lives, remember?”_

_Nine lives indeed._  Carol, Glenn and Carl hustled as fast as they could manage through the trees, trying to put as much space between themselves and the Governor’s tanks as possible. She didn’t know if they were actually being followed, but neither she nor Glenn were willing to risk it.

They’d planned for this possibility, losing the prison like this, and several group meetings had been held in recent weeks to declare safe routes and potential meeting places in case they group was separated during evacuation. Carol had no idea where anyone else was, if anyone else had even survived the madness back at the prison, but she couldn’t let herself think about that. Carl could barely stand and Glenn had sustained a blow to the head when the tornado hit the bridge. They needed shelter, fast.

“How... far... have we... gone,” Carl gasped.

“Not really sure.,” Glenn panted. “Maybe 4 miles?”

The gas station where Carol and Glenn had decided to head was located 7 miles northwest of the prison. It was a place Daryl had scouted previously and said would be a good hiding spot, and Carol trusted nothing more than Daryl’s survival instincts. If he said it was safe, then it was safe. Daryl and Glenn had both stocked the gas station with water and other supplies for safe keeping in case they needed to hide there if a run went bad. _Or for this._  Carol couldn’t believe they’d lost their home again. The events of the day were overwhelming, and trying to make sense of what had happened was making her brain feel like sludge.

“We just need to keep moving,” Carol said. “We’re almost there.”  _I think._  They were not on the path previously marked by the group, but Carol was pretty sure they were moving in the right direction. She could see bits of sunlight beaming between breaks in the clouds above, shining down like giant spotlights, but beyond that, dark clouds were still on the horizon.  _This storm isn’t over. We’re just in the eye right now. No, God don’t think about it right now. Just keep moving. Shelter. Think shelter first.  
_

_Daryl, where are you?_

* * *

The bottom had dropped out and the world was spinning in Daryl’s vision again. He literally couldn’t breathe and didn’t even notice as his crossbow dropped from his limp fingers. He dimly felt someone ( _Rick_ , he thinks) grabbing onto his shoulder for support, a move that any other day would have had him flinching away to put space between him and whoever was touching him. Except Carol. This moment, though, had him frozen to the spot as he looked out from just behind the tree line over what was left of their home.

The tornado had hit here hard, that much was obvious. Most of the east side of the prison lot was completely obliterated; nothing left there but piles of rock and debris. The watch tower, where their primary post for keeping watch took place, was gone, as was the basketball court. Daryl could just see the ruins of the garden Hershel had been working on getting planted, the fruits of their labors ripped from the ground and mixed amongst the scattering of papers, books, bits of cloth and fluff and chunks of wood from furniture broken in the storm; the debris was scattered all over. The west side of the prison, where they had lived for months now, looked mostly intact, although Daryl could see chunks of the roof were missing. It was the rest of it that had Daryl in shock.

There was were two tanks in the center courtyard of the prison. One, which had been closer to the east wing apparently, was tipped over and partially buried in the rubble from the collapsed building. The other, sadly, was still intact; the top hatch was open with a man standing out, machine gun aimed towards the back gate. There were bodies everywhere. Many had been walkers, their decomposed state visible to Daryl even from where he stood, but he could also make out the bodies of several members of his group, now fallen. There were at least a dozen people, armed with guns, combing the courtyard and making sure each body had a shot to the head. Down by the far back gate a small crowd stood, one figure slightly taller than the rest. Daryl’s jaw clenched in a sudden burst of anger; he knew  _exactly_  who that was.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and pulled Rick back further into the trees, not wanting to be spotted by the army below him. Michonne had Maggie by the arm and gently pulled her to the two men; Maggie was hyperventilating, her choking struggles for breath finally working into Daryl’s consciousness. Michonne was able to get Maggie to sit down and get her head between her knees. Daryl could hear her quietly encouraging Maggie to slow her breathing. Rick ducked behind a tree; Daryl could hear the sounds of vomit splattering on the ground.

Carol. Fucking hell, he needed to get in there, needed to see if there was any trace of her or anyone else who might be alive. His mind was sprinting, eyes scanning the ground around them as he tried to decipher what the fuck had happened.

“It was a trap,” Rick said, wiping his mouth as he staggered out from behind the tree to join them again. Daryl, Maggie and Michonne looked at their leader. “Maggie seeing the car this morning. He knew we’d follow the trail. Dammit!” Rick lashed out and kicked the tree, the solid thwunk of foot meeting wood loud and sharp to Daryl’s ears.

“He  _wanted_  us to spot him, to cut down the number of fighters at the prison,” Michonne agreed. “This was a trap and we all fell for it.”

“Must have hit ‘em right before the storm did, from the looks of things,” Daryl said. “Not much can knock over a damn tank like that, ‘cept maybe a twister.”

“Did you see anybody you recognized,” Maggie asked fearfully. “Glenn, my dad? Beth? What about-”

Daryl cut Maggie off with a wave of his hand. “Didn’t see any of those three. Saw Sasha, some of t’others we brought back from Woodbury. Nobody alive though.” Daryl turned his head to spit on a bush. “Wanna get in there. Make sure.”

Three heads swiveled to Daryl.

“Are. You. Insane?” Michonne hissed.

“Maybe the others got out ok,” Maggie said.

“Or are being held prisoner,” Rick muttered.

“We had an evacuation plan,” Michonne growled. “Let’s stick to it. Get over to-”

“Where, exactly?” Daryl spat at her.

“We never did agree on a primary location,” Rick sighed. “If anyone made it out alive, they could be anywhere. The truck stop, the pharmacy, the gas station...” Rick let his voice trail off for a moment. They’d had 4 potential safe houses picked out thanks to Daryl and Glenn’s scouting trips. There was supposed to have been a group meeting this afternoon to decide on a prime spot to meet up and hide out if things got bad.  _Too damn late._  Sometimes Daryl thought Democracy was a waste of time; they should have made a decision long before now. Rick glanced at him and he knew Rick was thinking of Daryl’s previous grumblings about having  _“too many meetings just to make a damn decision”_. It was possible to make decisions for the group and still not be the Governor, but their encounters with the man had left them all a bit scarred and now the resulting indecisiveness had bitten them all in the ass. _Hate being fuckin’ right._ He met Rick’s gaze for a moment before nodding to the man; Rick took a deep breath and spoke his next words with a conviction Daryl hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

“I agree with Daryl,” Rick said. “We need to get in there, see if there is anyone alive and being held captive. If not, we make for the truck stop.”

“But-” Maggie started.

“No,” Rick snapped. “The truck stop first. If no one is there, we leave a note and hit up the other three safe houses.”

“What if there isn’t anyone left?” Maggie sobbed.

_No. No no nonono._  Daryl shook his head, refusing to allow the possibility to take root.  _She’s not dead. She can’t be._

“Only one way t’ find out,” he said as he loaded his crossbow. “Let’s move before we lose daylight.”

“How the fuck do we even get inside,” Michonne asked angrily.

“Through the tombs,” Maggie said, surprising them all. “There’s that hole on the far west side we haven’t finished patching up. If the walkers can get in through there, why can’t we?”

“That’s crazy,” Rick said slowly, “but I think it’s our only way in.”

_The tombs. Motherfucking hell._  They were already exhausted and low on ammo. This was not going to be easy. Daryl knew they were right thought; it was the only way in with the prison in the state it was and their enemy everywhere. Maggie stumbled to her feet, wiping her nose with her jacket sleeve and pulling out her pistol.  _Good girl._  Michonne drew out her katana as Rick checked the number of rounds he had left in his gun. To the right, something on the ground caught Daryl’s attention and he shouldered his crossbow and pointed.

“Tracks.”

“From earlier? Or the tanks,” Michonne asked. Daryl crossed over to the tracks and knelt down to get a closer look.

“Tanks, definitely,” he said. Daryl counted in his head, then counted again.

“What is it?” Rick asked.

“I see three sets of tracks,” Daryl said slowly, “but only saw two tanks inside.”

“So where’s the other tank?” Maggie asked. All four of them realized it at the same time.

“Chasing down anyone alive,” Michonne said. Daryl rose to his feet and gripped his crossbow. A clap of thunder sounded overhead, making them all jump and raise their eyes to the sky. Dark clouds were swirling overhead, chasing away the bits of sunlight that had managed to sneak through earlier.

“Looks like this storm ain’t done. Jus’ in the eye of it right now.”

“We need to hurry,” Maggie said.

_“Stay safe.”  
_

_“Nine lives, remember?”_

Daryl hoped Carol’s nine lives were holding out. They had to.  _We’re comin’. Be alive, Carol._

* * *

Carol, Carl and Glenn skidded through the door of the empty gas station and slammed the door shut behind them, leaving them in near total darkness. Carol could hear a rustling in the dark, then a flicker of light as Glenn turned on the small penlight he always kept in his pocket and flashed it around the room. No walkers. _Thank God for small favors._  Glenn ran behind the counter and pulled out several bottles of water, which they all jumped for, thirst burning their throats.

“Don’t chug it or you’ll make yourself sick,” Carol gasped to Carl, who promptly ignored her and swallowed half the bottle in a single gulp.  _Suit yourself, kiddo._ Carol slung her hobo bag off her shoulder and set it down on the counter with a loud thunk, sighing in relief as she rolled her aching shoulder to loosen the knots. She sipped at her water; it was slightly warm, but still refreshing. She could feel it trickling down her throat and into her body like water down an irrigation ditch, reaching out in slow tendrils to nourish even the smallest corners of her body. For the first time in hours, Carol felt like she could breathe.

“Nobody else is here,” Carl whispered. “What do we do?”

Carol and Glenn looked at each other over Carl’s head. Carol had always imagined that if she was separated from the group, Daryl would be with her for some reason, maybe Hershel and Beth, to help look after Judith. Now the moment had arrived and she was with two people she’d least considered when she’d envisioned this possibility.

_Oh sweet Jesus, Judith._  Carol felt dizzy with fear and leaned back against the counter, still looking at Glenn. She couldn’t lose another child, but she had no idea where anyone else was. They could be at any of the other safe houses; the gas stations had just been the first one to occur to both her and Glenn. She could tell Glenn was holding back panic, surely thinking about Maggie. _Be strong. You know what to do._

“We wait,” Carol said quietly. “We wait like we all talked about.”

“No!” Carl’s sudden shout made Carol nearly jump out of her skin. “My sister is out there! My dad’s heading back to the prison and is headed straight for the Governor. We should have stayed to fight!”

“We’d be dead if we had,” Glenn snapped, “and that wouldn’t have helped anyone.”

“We’re not helping anyone now,” Carl muttered rebelliously.

“Look Carl,” Glenn huffed. “You think I’m not freaking out?  _Maggie_  is out there somewhere too, hopefully still with your dad, Daryl and Michonne. I don’t like this anymore than you do but there is an army  _with tanks_  between us and them. We need to rest, get our strength back. Then we’ll figure out a plan.”

“Glenn’s right, sweetie,” Carol said gently. “We’re not good to anyone if we try to push on right now. Let’s at least get set up and see if anyone else shows up. I’m sure the others are out there just as worried about us as we are them.”  _If anyone actually made it out alive._ Between the walkers inside the prison, the shooting and then the herd blocking their escape route, Carol was still floored the three of them had survived without a scratch or a bite. Carl snarled and kicked at the floor, fury coming off of him in waves. Carol knew how he felt. Every bone in her body wanted nothing more than to fling herself back outside and go find Daryl, but she knew that was a foolish choice in her condition. There was a gagging noise and she looked to see Carl lean over to empty the contents of his stomach into the trash can under the counter.  _Told you so._ She reached over to rub a soothing hand along Carl’s back while he shuddered and heaved into the trash can again before waving her off with a shaky hand and straightening up. Glenn sighed and set his gun down on the counter.

“OK, lady,” he said sternly, looking at Carol. “What’s the deal with the bag that almost got you killed? Because I don’t know about you, but I’d rather face an army than the wrath of Daryl Dixon if he learned that I’d let you go like that.”

Carol actually found herself grinning. “He’d thank you for this, actually.” Carol turned and unloaded the contents of her bag on the counter. Carl and Glenn both stepped forward to take a closer look.

“I dig the weapons,” Carl said of the knife and the gun she’d grabbed,  “but explain to me how a bottle of whiskey and a freaking  _poncho_  are supposed to help us?”

“I know how the whiskey is gonna help me,” Glenn mumbled under his breath.

“Actually, the whiskey is for this,” she said as she unwrapped the bandage around her arm. Opening the bottle, she took a small sip and coughed as the alcohol burned her throat, then tipped the bottle and poured some whiskey out onto the open wound and hissed at the sting. “Alcohol will help clean the wound.”

“Really?” Carl asked.

“Yup,” she replied. “Going old school. I wasn’t sure what medical supplied we’d have. Plus, with this and the poncho missing, Daryl will know I’m alive.” _Daryl. God, Daryl, please be alive._  Carol swallowed back the panic that rose up just thinking about Daryl and where he could be and looked back at Carl.

“He will?” Carl said doubtfully.

“He will.” Carol was confident. “I know Daryl. He’ll try to get in the prison to see if there is anyone alive in there. “

“That is the dumbest thing ever,” Glenn said, “but it sounds exactly like Daryl and for some reason, he makes dumb things work in his favor, so... yeah.” Carol smirked at him; Glenn’s eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. “Please don’t tell Daryl I said that.”

“That’s two secrets now I’m keeping from him for you.“ Carol winked and both Carl and Glenn managed to grin at that. “When he sees the whiskey and the poncho gone, he’ll know I made it out.”

“I can’t believe you hoarded whiskey from the rest of us,” Glenn said with a laugh. “I’m jealous.”

“I thought all the guns were kept in the old clinic,” Carl said slowly, fingering the pistol.

“Exactly,” Carol said. “I grabbed things only Daryl would know to look for, since we share a cell. If Daryl figures out that we’re out here alive, he’ll tell Rick and the others. They won’t stop looking for us then.”

“Carol, you’re a genius,” Carl said surprisingly. Carol grinned.

“I have my moments,” she replied. “Now you two see if there are any medical supplies in here while I clean up my arm, then I’ll take a look at you both.” The room lit up suddenly with a flash of lightning from outside. Seconds later, there was a huge clap of thunder sounded from overhead. All three turned wary eyes to the ceiling.

“Looks like the weather is picking back up again,” Glenn  said quietly.

“That sucks,” Carl said. “I’m over this weather.”

“That makes two of us,” Carol laughed lightly. She held her arm out gingerly and sprinkled a bit more whiskey into the wound, hissing through clenched teeth at the burn.  _Old school sucks._ Glenn picked his way through the stash of supplies as Carl made his way up and down the aisles of the gas station to gather up anything extra he could find. Glenn tossed a small first aid kit over to Carol.

“It isn’t much, but it’s something,” he said as he walked over to her. He opened the box and picked out alcohol swabs, gauze, tape and a packet of Tylenol, which he immediately ripped open and handed to Carol. She swallowed the pills dry while Glenn gently swapped her wound and the skin around it, trying to get it as clean as possible.

“It needs stitching,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose we have any suture kits stashed here?”

“No, that would have required actual foresight,” Glenn mumbled.

Carl came over with some over the counter pain medicine, a few sticks of gum, Twinkies and a large bag of pretzels. “This is all I could find that might be useful,” he said. “The only things really left here are car things, like oil and stuff.” He tore open the bag and grabbed a handful of pretzels.

“That’s fine,” Glenn said as he wrapped fresh bandages around Carol’s arm. “That’s probably going to scar,” he said to her.

“Yeah I know.”  _What’s one more scar? At least I earned this one._

Glenn taped the bandages down and gave Carol a light pat on her head. “You’re all set, girlie!”

Carol smiled and started repacking her hobo bag with their supplies. They now had the supplies she’d grabbed from her cell, the first aid kit, a few packets of pain medicine, gum, a bag of pretzels, Twinkies and 3 bottles of water.  _Better than nothing._ Carol hefted the bag and groaned at how heavy it was.

“Carl, was there a backpack or anything out there?”

“No,” Carl replied around a mouthful of pretzels. Glenn was rummaging around in the small back office behind the counter, really no bigger than a broom closet, where the owners of the gas station had kept the small safe and the manager’s desk. Another thunderclap boomed, echoing around the tiny gas station. Carol hear the rain start to fall again.  _God, this better just be rain. If its another tornado I quit._

“Can I have a Twinkie,” Carl asked. Carol reached into her bag and tossed him one of the Twinkies,

“That’s it for a while,” Carol cautioned. “We need to save our resources.”

“Like we’re back on the road again,” Carl said glumly.

Glenn came out of the office before Carol could respond, carrying a very small backpack and a few extra items. “Found some more Twinkies, a notepad and a pen and a pair of scissors,” Glenn said. “What is it with these people and Twinkies?”

Carol just rolled her eyes and gestured to the backpack. “Anything useful?”

“No, it’s empty. At least we can divide up our supplies this way so we don’t kill your bag.”

Carol and Glenn took a few minutes to divvy up the supplies between them and repack the bags. Picking up her bag again, Carol was pleased with how much lighter it was. Now she just carried the things she’d taken from her cell and the first aid supplies. Everything else went into Glenn’s backpack. The thunder was getting even louder and coming more frequently. She munched on a few pretzels; they were slightly stale, but better than nothing. Carl was moaning around his mouthful of Twinkie, clearly a happy boy for the moment, and Glenn took the chance to lean closer to Carol.

“Do we stay for the night, or try to move?” Glenn whispered urgently.

“What are the chances that we were followed? Or that the herd might come back this way?” she whispered back. Carol put her hand on the counter to steady herself and was surprised at how much she was shaking.  _Jesus, woman, calm down. Ain’t no time to get panicky._  The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Daryl this time. She took a deep breath, pressing her hand more firmly to the counter to stop herself shaking and that was when it hit her.  _She_  wasn’t shaking. The counter was.

“Glenn,” she said slowly. Glenn furrowed his brow at her and put his hand on the counter. The thunder was booming louder than ever and Carol was startled with another realization. “There isn’t any lightning.”

“That’s because this isn’t thunder. Shit!” Glenn swore and picked up his gun. Carl jumped to his feet, his face pale while Carol grabbed her bag and slung it around her shoulders.

“We have to go,” she said urgently. “We have to go right now!”

“Out the office window,” Glenn said suddenly.

“What?!”

“Trust me,” he shouted over the rumbling bass. The shaking was getting worse and Carol could feel it through her feet now. She knew what it meant. _Shit._ They bolted into the small office, Glenn and Carl shoving the desk under the tiny window high up the wall. It looked like they were just barely going to fit. Glenn climbed up and peeked out the window.

“It’s on the other side,” he said. “I can just see it turning around. We have maybe a minute.” Glenn took his gun and smashed the glass, the roar of the tank clear now over the falling rain and the sounds of the storm. The building was shaking with the force of it.

“Carol, you first,” Glenn said as he pulled her onto the desk. Carol didn’t argue; she just shoved her bag through the window and slid herself through head first, landing in a heap on the muddy ground below. She grabbed her bag and hugged her back to the wall, trying to stay in shadow as much as possible as Carl, then Glenn jumped down from the window. Carl turned and gestured at them, ‘where now?’

‘Anywhere but here,’ Carol mouthed back. Glenn nodded and, shouldering his own backpack, ducked down low and headed off into the trees, Carol and Carl on his heels. They made it about 200 yards from the gas station and crawled together under a small bush just as the head lamp clamped to the top of the tank turned on, flooding the area with brilliant light. Carol was wedged in between Glenn and Carl.

“What if they see us?!” Carl hissed. Carol shushed him and clamped a hand over his mouth. Deja vu hit and the memory of hiding under a van with Lori’s hand over her own mouth flashed before her eyes.  _Everything comes full circle._ She glanced over and met Glenn’s terrified eyes. She felt panic seep through her. This was it. They had no shelter, no allies and no weapon that would manage against a tank. If they were spotted, they were dead. They watched the tank roll up to the gas station, none of them daring to even take a breath. Through the storm, Carol heard a whizzing noise and she watched a trail of smoke come from the barrel of the tank’s gun. There was a pop followed by a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever before the gas station exploded, the fireball reaching up towards the stormy sky.


	4. Choose Your Fight

Carl cried out into Carol’s hand as the tendrils of smoke and fire curled upwards, pointing towards the raging sky above them from what had been the gas station. Out the side of her eyes, she could see Glenn’s fingers digging into the ground beneath him. The three of them were frozen to the spot, on their bellies beneath a snarled bush watching as two men - soldiers, she thought instantly - emerged from the top hatch of the tank and jumped down. She heard Glenn breath hitch and she reached out to grab him, wrapping her slender fingers tight around his wrist. He glanced at her and Carol gave a minute shake of her head, trying to scream ‘no’ at him with her eyes without making a sound. Glenn nodded his head yes at her. They went back and forth for a moment while the Governor’s men started to walk around the perimeter of the fire. Carol finally took a chance to hiss in Glenn’s ear. 

“We have no idea how many more of them there may be.”

“There can’t be more than the two of them. The tank isn’t that big,” Glenn whispered back. “We can’t just sit here and wait for them to catch us.”

Before Carol had a chance to answer, she heard voices and froze. The soldiers had walked their way around the far side of the gas station and were now looking out into the woods where Carol, Carl and Glenn lay hidden. They could just hear snatches of the soldiers’ conversation over the snap and crackle of the fire in the background.

“...don’t think anyone got out if they were here...”

“...said to check all four...” 

“...tank’s running low...”

“...enough fuel to hit the truck stop...”

“...only so many places they could have gone...”

“...biters be here soon, with the fire and all...”

“...don’t see anything... head on back...”

Bile rose in her throat and Carol had to choke back the urge to vomit as she exchanged a look of despair with Glenn. She looked over at Carl, her hand over his mouth in stark contrast to his pale face and she knew he’d heard enough to know what it meant for them. The three of them lay as still as they could as the two soldiers quickly checked the area again. The chill from the rain was seeping through her body, her rain and mud soaked clothes sticking to her like a second skin. She tried to keep her breathing slow and even to keep herself calm as they watched the men slowly make their way back to the tank. One of the men stopped, turning back so they could see his face in the light of the fire.

“Martinez,” Glenn whispered.

Martinez raised his machine gun to the sky and rapidly fired off several rounds. The other soldier, standing next to the tank, did the same with his own gun pointed skyward before crawling up the tank to climb back down inside the open hatch. Martinez walked backwards to the tank and fired off a few more rounds, aiming high and away from the gas station fire, the sound just audible over the flames.  _They’re trying to make noise_ , she realized.  _Drawing walkers. Great._ Martinez finally clambered his way back inside the tank, slamming the hatch closed after him. They heard the roar of the tank’s engine as it started up again and watched with bated breath, the ground rumbling beneath them, as it slowly made its way back onto the road and headed away from them.

Carl made to move, but Carol shushed him again and whispered to him to wait a little longer. She wanted to make sure that tank was gone before they moved. Carl must have understood that because for once he didn’t try to argue with her; he just nodded under her hand and settled back down on the muddy ground again. Minutes passed slowly, dragging on as they waited in anxious silence for the rumbling of the ground to cease beneath them, a sure sign that the tank, and the Governor’s men, were no longer nearby; the snarl of the flames mingling with the plink of rain falling on the leaves of the bush that covered them. The sky was very dark now; sunset having long since passed. The smoke from the fire blended almost perfectly with the storm clouds overhead. It was cold enough now that Carol could see her own breath as it left her body, the whispy tendrils curling into the night air and vanishing before her eyes. Waiting, still waiting; it was suddenly too much for her. She wanted to be back at the prison, listening to Beth singing to Judith while she prepared dinner and laughed at what comments the older Woodbury folks might say about the meal, having never adjusted to the limited supplies available at the prison. She wanted dry clothes, she wanted to hold Asskicker, she wanted Daryl.

_Daryl._  She wanted to see his crooked smile, she wanted to stub her toe for the millionth time on the bits and pieces of his dismantled crossbow scattered over the floor of their cell as he methodically cleaned every inch of his precious Betsy, wanted to see the blush creep up his neck as she teased him, see his eyes crinkle in delight on the rare occasions he teased back and surprised her.  _God, Daryl._  It was too much,  _much_  too much, and Carol buried her head in her arm as tears trickled down her cheeks. Surprisingly, it was Rick’s voice, not Daryl’s, that echoed through her head.

**“We all have a choice to make here. We can leave this place, and run again, and hopefully find somewhere new to settle down. Somewhere outside the Governor’s reach. Start over again. Or we stay. We fight.”**

Something was tugging on her hand; she lifted her head and raised watery eyes to Glenn, who was making his way out from under the bush and trying to pull her along with him. She sighed and started to crawl forward on her belly, creeping out slowly with Carl at her side.

**“We earned this prison. It cost us T-Dog and Lori... It almost cost us Carol and Judith. I know it’s been hard. We’ve all struggled, we’ve all suffered.”**

They stepped closer to the gas station fire, the smell of burning wood and oil filling her nose. Next to her, Carl wiped his nose on the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

“Now what?” he asked.

“They know about the truck stop,” Carol said quietly. 

“Which means they probably know about the other safe houses,” Glenn replied.

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” Glenn’s voice was thick with worry. “Either they got the information out of someone left behind tonight or...”

“Or someone betrayed us,” Carol finished for him.

**“Was it worth it?”**

“So what do we do?” Carl was starting to panic. Carol closed her eyes as raised her face to the sky, embracing for a moment the mix of rain, wind, smoke and ash across her skin.  _Still alive. Nine lives after all._  

“We can’t go to any of the safehouses,” Glenn  was saying. “At this point, everything we planned for could be used against us now.” 

**“We each have to make a choice. You all know the road is hard. We lived it for 8 months together, fighting for every inch.”**  

Glenn and Carl were arguing behind her. Carol let their voices fade into the background as she tried to think. They had no maps, few supplies, no friends. Anyone from their camp still trying to make their way to the safehouses was walking into a trap.  _Or already had._ She had no idea if Daryl was safe. Had he made it back to the prison and seen the destruction? Was he headed for one of the safe houses? She cast her thoughts to the sky, hoping for answers, for some guidance as to what to do next. She didn’t pray; she’d given up on prayer when her baby came out of the barn, stumbling on undead legs like a newborn calf and making her way forward with dead eyes. No, prayer was not her safety anymore. She didn’t have faith in God, but she did have faith in Daryl. Carol took a deep breath, letting the stormy wind caress her face, bringing her answers.  _He’s alive._  She just knew it. She could feel it all the way through her bones and it gave her strength.  _What would Daryl do now?_

“We need to find shelter,” Carol said determinedly. Glenn and Carl looked at her in surprise; she’d never spoken with such authority before. “Look, between the explosion and the gunshots, we could have a herd on us any second. We can’t count on any of the safe houses actually being safe anymore. I don’t know where we’re going to go, but we can’t stay here like this. So let’s move.” There was no room for argument in her voice and thankfully neither of the boys tried. Glenn shifted the backpack on his shoulders and nodded at her, ready to move. She looked at Carl; the water cascading off the brim of his father’s ten gallon hat obscuring his face.

 “Carl,” she said softly.

Carl sniffed, then raised his eyes to her and nodded.  _Good. Off we go._

 “Shelter first,” she said. Carol pulled the pistol out of her hobo bag, checking to make sure the gun was loaded and sticking it in the belt of her pants. “And then we figure out how to find our family.” She turned, marching off in the opposite direction from where the tank had gone. She could just hear the boys at her heels. She knew they had no idea where they were going, but they’d find something. They had to.

**“We stay, we fight. We run, we fight. What you need to do now is decide which fight you want to have. Do we stay? Or do we run?”**

“Daryl”, she whispered to the wind. “Daryl, I’m going to find you somehow.”

_Every time I reach out for something, fate comes along and snatches it away. Well, not this time. Not this time!_


	5. Into The Dark

_**A/N:** _ _Please be advised: this is not a happy chapter. I went through the emotional wringer writing this, especially the end. A bit of blood and gore, some more death. I do give you some Caryl in this chapter though! The Caryl feels really pick up after this, so stick with me. Daryl and Carol just need to go on their own journeys for a bit first. ;)_

_If you are reading this, please review. I could really use some feedback with this beast!_

* * *

It was so fucking  _dark_  in the tombs. The hairs on the back of Daryl's neck were standing up, all of his senses on high alert. The tombs were never a good idea to wander through on the best of days, and this was far from that. They'd never patched up the damn hole in the wall, something else always taking precedence. Now it was their only shot at getting inside the prison. So far, they'd been lucky. Just a couple of walkers near the hole, easy to take down. Daryl had shouldered his crossbow, the tombs too dark to be able to aim properly, and instead welded his knife and crossed his fingers they didn't come across a larger group of walkers.

The four of them moved through the tunnels quiet as mice, the only light provided by Rick's small flashlight. Daryl's ears were straining to pick up the telltale groaning or shuffling noises that indicated walkers or worse, the stomp and whisper of people, but there was nothing more than the echoes of the storm outside, dulled by the thick concrete walls of the prison.

"I don't like it," Rick muttered in Daryl's ear. "The native tom-toms are too quiet." Daryl nodded before he realized that Rick couldn't see him nod, so he grunted softly in agreement.

He hated it down here. The stench of rotted flesh and stale air made him want to vomit. There was a reason they called this place the tombs, after all. It made Daryl think of being buried alive; worse, it reminded him of Carol, stuck down here in a closet for days waiting to die. He'd fucking walked right past her.  _No - don't think about it. Not now. Focus._  God, it was so hard to focus. He was furious, rage burning through him like fire, and the only thing he wanted more than to kill the Governor right now was to find Carol and the others. Even more than that though, Daryl was exhausted. He, all of them, had been running on pure adrenaline for hours now and it was starting to taper off, leaving him a mess of screaming muscles begging for a moment's rest.

It wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Daryl sighed in frustration as the first groans reached his ears, signaling walkers were up ahead. He heard the metallic swish of Michonne unsheathing her katana as he crept forward, keeping his body plastered to the wall to peer around the corner.

_Shit._

 

* * *

Carol sighed heavily as she sank down to the ground, leaning back against the cold wooden post. They'd stumbled upon an old rest stop; nothing more than a couple of picnic benches covered by a simple wooden overhang on 4 pillars, but it was the best they had seen in miles. The muscles in Carol's legs were spasming, the anxiety of being hunted and running for their lives for so many miles finally catching up to her. Carl had literally crawled the last few feet to one of the benches, his own legs no longer able to hold him up. Glenn had collapsed as well, dropping his backpack and gun with a loud crash and almost falling onto one of the picnic benches. For a long time, there was nothing more than the sound of the three of them gasping for breath and the rain falling around them.

 _Too much._  Carol felt herself dangerously on the edge of falling into shock. She wondered where Daryl and the rest of her family was, and hoped that they were ok.

"Carol," Glenn sighed. "I don't think I can move anymore."

Carol shifted her attention to her friend, lying on the long picnic bench on his side, facing her. They were all tired and sore from the horrors of the day, covered in filth from mud, smoke, sweat and ash, rain-soaked clothes sticking to their bodies like second skins. Carol's arm was throbbing where she'd been shot, blood seeping through the bandage again but she had nothing to change it with. It would have to sit for now.

Carl had crawled under the picnic table and was already asleep, one hand flung over his face clutching his father's ten gallon hat. He looked like such a little boy, although he was nothing of the sort. Not anymore. Glenn could barely keep his eyes open, stretched out on the bench with his head on his backpack. No, they really couldn't move anymore.

"I don't like sitting here out in the open," Carol said, "but I agree. We need to rest. This seems as good a place as any, as long as we try to keep ourselves hidden from people by staying down close to the table." She didn't mention the possibility of a herd coming through; she and Glenn both knew if that happened they were as good as dead.  _Daryl would have a fit if he knew we were staying out in the open like this._  The thought made her smile.

"Are you sure? I can take first watch," Glenn offered.

"No." Carol shook her head and smiled at him sadly. "You're already mostly asleep. I'm in a better spot for watch right now. Sleep, and I'll wake you up in a couple of hours."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Carol shifted her position on the ground, her entire body screaming in frustration at being forced to move, but now she had a better view of the area around them. "We need to be on the move by dawn."

Glenn merely nodded and yawned hugely, curling his arms around his body.

"Sleep next to Carl," Carol said.

"Huh?" Glenn cracked one eye open again to look at her, his confused expression making Carol laugh out loud.

"We're all soaked. Whoever is on watch can use the poncho. When we sleep, we sleep next to each other to share body heat. The last thing we need is to get sick." Carol didn't even want to imagine the very real possibility of them getting sick, especially cold and wet and out in the elements as they were. They were already tempting fate. Glenn caught on quickly, rolling off the bench to land with a thud on the ground next to Carl and wrapping his arms around the sleeping boy.  _Wish I had a camera right now._  Within seconds, Glenn was asleep.

Carol pulled Daryl's poncho from her hobo bag and wrapped it around her. It smells like him. She snuggled deeper into the poncho, her eyes scanning the surrounding area, watching and fighting the exhaustion threatening to overtake her.

_"Stay safe."_

_"Nine lives, remember?"_

_I'm staying safe as I can, Daryl. Find us._

 

* * *

Blood splattered onto Daryl's face as he drove his knife through shriveled flesh and bone deep into the walker's brain.  _Gross._  Dirty he was used to but the feel and scent of thick, congealed, dead blood on his skin was not something he enjoyed. With a grunt, he yanked the knife back and let the corpse fall to the ground at his feet. He turned to see Michonne's blade slice through another walker's neck, loping the head clean off before she drove the end of her sword through the brain. Rick was helping Maggie to her feet at the far end of the hallway. They'd made their way through a dozen walkers, all congregated together in the hall that lead up from the tombs themselves to the main area of the prison. Daryl could hear voices now, and the tromp of boots as the Governor's men moved around the prison.

"How do we want to do this?" Michonne hissed. The four of them huddled together, covered in blood and filth but no worse for wear.

"No one takes on the Governor right now," Rick said.

"Fuck that nonsense," Daryl murmured. He wanted blood, he wanted the Governor's severed head on a fucking pike. Next to him, Michonne and Maggie both nodded in agreement.

"No! The priority here has to be finding our people, " Rick said firmly. "That's why we are here. We can't lose sight of that now. They're counting on us. Think about them right now. Hershel, Tyreese, Beth, Glenn, Judith, Carol, everyone. They need us."

Maggie sighed heavily; they all knew Rick was right. _Focus._

"Stay together," Daryl said. "Splittin' up s' a bad idea. Ain't much of this place left. Only so many places they could be."

"Daryl, you take point," Rick said. "I'll take the right flank; Michonne, you take the left. Maggie will bring up the rear. Let's check the common areas and Cell Block C first. We'll go from there. No guns. We need to be as quiet as possible."

Plan in place, Daryl slowly crept forward, leading the others through the doors into the main prison block.

The tables where they had eaten meals were overturned, some clearly having been used as shields. Everything was covered with splatters of blood and gore; pools of blood had congealed on the floor. There were smatterings of bullet holes all over. The windows all the way up the wall were all blown in; having shattered during the tornado, huge shards of glass were now scattered all over. The hazy smell of smoke and gunfire mixed with the iron tang of blood. The room itself was empty of people; the army was outside, noises carrying in through the open windows. Daryl, Rick, Michonne and Maggie carefully made their way through the room, staying low and close to the walls.

The cells themselves looked untouched; clearly, the Governor's men hadn't gotten to working through their personal things yet. Daryl motioned for the others to stop, then pointed to himself and the door. Rick nodded his understanding and drew his gun, pointing it towards the door that lead to the outer courtyard as Daryl sheathed his knife and grabbed his crossbow, making sure a bolt was loaded in place. The door itself hung open a crack; just enough for Daryl to get a look outside. He wished he hadn't looked. The men outside were busy piling bodies for burning. Amidst the tossed piles of rotted flesh, Daryl could see the familiar faces he'd spotted earlier from his perch outside the prison. Sasha, Karen, the elderly Hispanic couple whose names he could never remember, Mike, a teenager who'd always followed him around asking for crossbow lessons. So many others. It was the sight of the second, smaller pile that churned Daryl's stomach.  _The kids._  All of them had been slaughtered, bullet holes clearly visible on each small head. Blood dripped down through the jumble of tiny fingers, toes, arms and legs in the haphazard pile of carelessly tossed bodies.

The world spun and Daryl bent over, gasping for breath. He felt something grab his shirt and pull him back into the room. He heard the soft click of the door being carefully shut as a voice whispered in his ear.

"How bad is it?" Maggie.

"Bad," he choked out. "They're gettin' corpses ready for burning. All th' kids..." Daryl bent over again, unable to finish. Maggie gasped and brought her hand to her mouth.

"All of the children?" Rick asked worriedly.

Daryl shook his head. "I didn't see Carl or Ass-kicker. Hard to tell though, bodies piled like that. Saw Sasha, lots of others too."

"All dead?"

Daryl nodded. "Damn slaughter out there. Don't think they're leavin' anyone they find alive."

"Jesus," Michonne muttered.

"Did you see any of the others?" Maggie asked fearfully. "Glenn? My dad?"

Daryl shook his head. "No sign of either of 'em, or Beth. Few others missin'. Carol-" he choked on her name and bent over again, trying to catch his breath.  _Carol. Carol Carol Carol._  He felt Rick's hand grip his shoulder, understanding that Rick was trying to offer him comfort the best way he could. He still flinched, but stopped himself from pulling away completely.

"Let's check upstairs," Michonne offered quietly.

They made their way to the second tier, where most of them had lived in their chosen cells. They didn't stop, quickly glancing inside each cell to see if there was anyone alive. They had no luck and Daryl could tell all of their spirits lowered with each empty cell. By the end of the second tier he knew that they would find no one from their family alive in the prison. His heart clenched at the thought.  _She's out there somewhere. Gotta be._  He kept chanting that mantra as they made their way to the third tier, where what Daryl thought of as the core group kept their cells. Hershel, with his leg, had shared a cell with Beth on the ground floor, but they were the only ones of the "core" to live off the third tier. They moved together in silence, each quietly mourning the loss of their home.

Maggie stopped first outside the cell she shared with Glenn, quickly going inside to grab what supplies she could heave into Glenn's old backpack. Daryl, Rick and Michonne stood a quiet guard, giving Maggie a moment alone. The ritual was repeated at Rick, Carl and Judith's cell; a quiet sob reached Daryl's ears which he and the girls tried desperately to ignore. The weight in Daryl's chest was heavier by the second;  _she's out there somewhere_  running through his head over and over as he tried to push back against the despair threatening to overwhelm him. Rick came out of his cell and took the lead, pulling the group forward through sheer force of will.

They stopped outside of the cell Daryl shared with Carol, clearly intending to give him a moment to go inside and collect any supplies. Daryl was frozen, staring at the ground. He couldn't move anymore, despair and grief covering him like a thick blanket. He suddenly remembered the last time he'd been like this.  _Merle._

_He was having one of those "out of body" experiences he saw on TV all the time. He watched himself wrapping Merle's body in a tarp and burying him near a large oak tree not too far from the prison. His only tools were his knife and his fingers to dig the grave, but Merle was his brother and if this was the final thing he could do for Merle, then fingers it was. He couldn't think of anything to say once he'd finished filling the grave, so he simply stood there in silence. It had always been hard to know what to say to Merle, or about Merle. The silence seemed fitting._

_So that had been that._

_Stumbling through the prison gate, weary and broken. Rick was there, but it wasn't Rick he wanted, so he just said her name, asking for her in his own way. He needed her. Standing there, looking down at the ground and just waiting for her to show up. And she did, taking his hand and pulling him along like he was a schoolboy. A shower, the blasting white noise of water falling over his head blanking out the worries and anguish he could feel boiling under the surface. Changing into fresh clothes and rolling into bed. His mind was buzzing but everything was so jumbled, like static on the radio._

_She stayed the entire night, sitting on the edge of his bed and holding his hand in both of hers. He watched himself, lying in his bed not sleeping but watching her watching him. What could she see? The worn shell of someone crumbling as it took blow after blow? Or something more?_

Carol saw more in him than anyone else; Daryl had known that since they'd lost Sophia. She was the first person in his long, lonely life to see something more in him than the dirt, good for nothing redneck trash he'd been brought up to believe he was. She'd seen every scar that crisscrossed his back, had watched him rage and scream at the world around him, seen his necklace of walker ears, been witness to the brutality he was capable of, had taken every cruel taunt and insult he'd thrown at her back when he'd still tried to push her away. All of that, and she still graced him with her smile, her eyes that always saw right through him down to his very soul and, as he'd grown more comfortable with them, the soft touch of her hand in his. Daryl had always been aware of the potential for more between them, but it was coming back with Merle, and all during the months since, that had cemented it for him. Now he stood, outside their cell, unable to move for his fear and grief and this time, Carol wasn't there to pull him out.

_How am I supposed to do this without you?_

 

* * *

Carol slowly pulled herself to her feet. Her whole body ached and screamed with each step, but she dragged herself forward and knelt to grab Glenn's shoulder, shaking him awake.

"Your turn for watch," she said softly. Glenn moaned and stretched, his joints popping and cracking.

"How long have I been out," he asked with a yawn.

"Maybe 3 hours," Carol said ruefully. "I can't stay awake anymore."

"I can do it." Carol turned slightly, surprised. She hadn't realized Carl was awake. Carl's eyes were red from sleep. "I've been awake for a little while," he sniffed and Carol realized his eyes were red from crying, not exhaustion.

"Carl," she started to say, but he cut her off.

"Please, Carol. I can do this," he urged quietly. "Let me help us."

 _My poor boy. My poor, sweet boy._  Lori's voice mingled with her own in her head. Carol wished for the hundredth time that Carl could have been spared this life, but it wasn't meant to be. And she needed to sleep. Carol nodded and handed the poncho to Carl, shifting so he could climb out from under the bench.

"Wake Glenn up in 3 hours for watch," she instructed. "Stay here, stay quiet. If you see anything wake us up. No excuses."

Carl nodded, thankfully not fighting against his instructions for once. "I promise." Carl stood to walk unsteadily to where Carol pointed and settled down for his first solo watch.  _Had to happen some time._  She squashed the urge to offer to stay awake with him and settled down next to Glenn on the ground beneath the bench. They lay facing each other, sorrow and fear in both of their faces. The rain was still falling, trickling down through cracks in the roof above.

"How are we supposed to do this?" Glenn whispered so that Carl couldn't hear. Carol knew he meant more than just their sleeping arrangements, or even their tentative plans for after the sun rose.

"I don't know," she whispered back.

"I'm so worried." Glenn's eyes were shiny with unshed tears. "Maggie is out there, or she could be dead. We've lost our home again and if Maggie is dead... Carol, I don't know if I can do this." A single tear slowly fell from Glenn's eye. Carol wrapped her arms around him and held him close, his arms curling around her as his body started to shake with quiet sobs.

"We'll make it," she whispered with a conviction she only partially felt. "We're going to make it, Glenn."

 

* * *

 _Have to move, Dixon. Either go in or move on._  Daryl shifted on his feet, knowing the others were getting impatient with him. He knew there were supplies he wanted from his cell; his poncho, the extra gun. He finally raised his head, nodded at Rick and moved aside the large grey blanket that served as their curtain to enter his cell.

She was everywhere. The clothes she had folded were still in their place on top of the overturned crate they used as their table, his leathers she'd hung over the ladder of the top bunk, the small bottle of lotion he'd snagged for her on their last run still in it's place on the sink. It was only when he reached for her hobo bag, thinking to use it for carrying supplies, that he realized things were different. The bag wasn't where she kept it and...

Daryl checked every nook and cranny of the cell and gave a full blown grin, the anguish of before falling away and leaving him lighter than air.  _That's my girl._

"Rick," he called out softly. "Get in here."

The curtain parted and Rick came in, followed swiftly by Michonne. Maggie stayed outside, keeping watch, but kept the blanket pulled back so she could be part of the conversation.

"What's wrong?" Rick asked.

"Nothing," Daryl smiled. Rick blinked, surprised by Daryl smiling.

"She's alive," Daryl continued. "She got out."

"How do you know?," Michonne asked.

"Her bag is gone, "Daryl explained quickly. "So is my poncho."

"That doesn't mean anything," Michonne said, clearly trying to point out the flaws without upsetting Daryl. Rick was still, watching Daryl and waiting for him to finish. Daryl just kept smiling.

"Kept a bottle of Southern Comfort under the bed," he continued, "along with a gun and some ammo. All gone. Carol's knife ain't under her pillow, neither."

"You were hoarding an extra gun AND alcohol in here?!" Maggie said quietly from the door.

"Exactly!" Daryl exclaimed. "Y'all know about my poncho and her bag. The rest of the stuff missin' only she and I know about. She wanted me to know she was alive."  _That's my girl. That's my brilliant, brave, beautiful girl._

"Carol wouldn't have left alone if she could help it," Rick said slowly. Daryl nodded.

"Chances are others are with her."

"Then let's go," Maggie said. "We know we won't find anyone else here. Let's go get our people back."

"We better hurry to catch up to them before that third tank does," Michonne said. They all looked at each other. Daryl grabbed his leathers from the bunk ladder and shoved them into Maggie's backpack, moving out of the cell. A loud thump from outside made them all freeze in their tracks; the door below opened for a moment, a man's long shadow spilling out onto the floor. Daryl quietly moved closer to the railing and aimed his crossbow. There was a shout from outside; the man apparently turned to look at something, then went back outside, slamming the door behind him. Everyone released quiet sighs of relief.

"Time to move."

"Truck stop first," Rick said. "Then the other 3 hiding spots. That seems most obvious to me." They made their way to the far end of the tier, moving faster now. Daryl was ready to get out of this place. It wasn't home anymore. Carol was his home and he was going to find her. There was a fleeting moment of regret for his motorcycle, knowing there was no way to get to it now. They made it to the end of the tier, not bothering to check any of the cells. These had all been unoccupied, so they knew there was nothing to collect from them. They started to creep back down the stairs when Michonne stopped by the last cell, a startled cry leaving her lips.

"Tyreese!"

Daryl skidded to a halt in front of the cell. The door was closed, a large chain and padlock ensuring that no one was getting in or out. Tyreese was sprawled on the bottom bunk, his face a bloody, swollen mess. There were long, shallow cuts running down the length of his arms; cuts that Daryl knew from experience were not deep enough to cause any real damage, but enough to hurt. His shirt was off and Daryl could see the burn marks covering his chest. All of the fingernails were missing from Tyreese's left hand, the ends of his fingers nothing more than bloody stumps. His right leg was twisted at such an angle that Daryl knew the limb to be broken, probably in several places.

"They tortured him." Rick sounded horrified. Daryl couldn't blame him but at this point he felt like nothing could surprise him. Daryl knelt to inspect the padlock and chain, looking for a weak spot.

"M' so sorry." Tyreese's voice was so soft and hoarse Daryl almost missed it. He hadn't realized Tyreese was even awake.

"What happened Tyreese?" Michonne gripped the bars of the cell and leaned forward, trying to be as quiet as possible in case anyone else came in downstairs.

"We were all inside because the tornado was coming," Tyreese coughed out. "Carol and Glenn were on watch... They came just before the twister itself did... through the back door. I'm not even sure how they made it in." Tyreese's chest heaved with another deep, hacking cough. Daryl could hear the fluid caught in his throat and knew his injuries ran deep. "They started shooting... went outside... walkers everywhere... Shoved people through the back gate" Tyreese doubled over as another coughing fit took him, spittle thick and dark with blood from his splattering onto the floor. Daryl winced.

"Ain't lookin' good," he whispered quickly to Rick.

"Any way to get that lock open?" Rick hissed back. Daryl just shook his head.

"I saw Hershel, Beth and the baby go out the far west side... Think they got out ok. I was with Carol, Carl and Glenn. Saw the three of them go out the back gate towards the trees..." Tyreese coughed out. Daryl's heart skipped a beat.  _She got out._  "Saw the Campbells were stuck in the crossfire with their two kids... I tried to go help. The tanks came through the fences..." Tyreese was wheezing, every breath clearly causing him pain. "Damn tanks fired on us. Everything went black. When I woke up, I was strapped to a table in the old clinic."

Tyreese doubled over again, coughing more blood out onto the ground. The four of them stood silent as stone on the other side of the bars, taking in every word of Tyreese's tail. Daryl's fingers itched to move, to do  _something_ , but his gut told him to just stay put for the moment. He knew, though he didn't want to say it yet, that even if they could get the lock open, there was no rescuing Tyreese.

"What happened next?" Michonne asked softly.

Tyreese managed to crack open one swollen eyelid. Next to him, Maggie gasped. The white of his eye was completely red, the blood vessels clearly burst. Scarlet strands of blood were seeping into the iris of the eye, tainting the brown color.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out again. "They kept asking me about where people might go to hide..."

Daryl's vision swam with red as a sudden burst of rage overtook him.

"You tell them 'bout the safe houses?" he asked with a snarl. _If they know about the safe houses..._  Rick put a warning hand on Daryl's arm that he shook off with a growl, itching for his knife. He noticed Tyreese was shaking his head.

"Maria Campbell did," Tyreese breathed. "She was on the table next to me."

"Where is she now?" Rick wanted to know. Tyreese just shook his head and closed his eye again. The rage left Daryl in a huff, leaving him weak in the knees again.  _They know about the safe houses. Christ._  He spared a brief thought for Maria Campbell and hoped her end had been swift. Given Tyreese's state, he wasn't counting on it.

"We'll find something to let you out of there," Maggie said. Tyreese shook his head at her.

"No time," he said. "Too many men here and I heard them order more to come. Besides, I'm in bad shape. You won't be able to move me."

"We won't leave you here," Rick said determinedly.

"That's exactly what you'll do." Tyreese rose up on one elbow to look at Rick with his damaged eye. The other eye still wouldn't open. "Go find the others, if they're still out there. Then get the hell out of dodge. Get out of Georgia, go somewhere safe." Tyreese collapsed back onto the bed, out of strength. Beads of sweat covered his body, running into the open, ragged scratches on his arms.

"Tyreese," Michonne started.

"I'm done," Tyreese said. "They had a finger... cut from a walker... "

"Oh my god," Daryl muttered, looking at the scratches on Tyreese's arms again. "Used that t' scratch you all up, didn't they." It wasn't a question; from the looks of horrors dawning on their faces, all four of them knew the answer, even as Tyreese nodded.

"Maria turned... they threw what was left of her into the cell with her kids..." Tyreese thankfully stopped, not needing to go on. Daryl's jaw clenched in anger.  _Blood begets blood_ , he thought,  _and Gov'ner, you owe us some._  Rick pulled his gun out from his waistband and clicked the safety off.

"We don't let our family turn," he said to Tyreese sadly.

"No," Tyresee coughed. "They'll be on you... in a second... Get out of here..." The fever was spreading quickly, giving an odd tint to his skin. Won't be long, now. Daryl raised his crossbow slightly towards Tyreese as an offering.

"Never liked ya much," Daryl admitted. "M'sorry 'bout that. Ain't gonna let you turn though."

"They'll know you were here," Tyreese breathed.

"S'ok," Daryl said. "Figured they'd get that sooner or later."

Tyreese looked at Michonne, quiet and somber as she always was; then to Maggie, pale with tears flooding down her face; then to Rick, who simply holstered his gun and nodded at him, stepping forward to grasp the cell bars with one hand. Trying to let Tyreese know that even now, at this last moment, he would not be alone. Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming through the cell bars for Tyreese's head. A million thoughts flashed through Daryl's mind.  _Amy. Dale. Merle._

A nod. A click and a swish of air.

_Sorry, brother._

The feathers of the arrow lodged firmly in Tyreese's head quivered slightly as his body slumped further onto the bed, giving up its last exhale of breath. Then all was still.

Rick, Daryl, Michonne and Maggie left silent as shadows in the cold dark room where they had all once lived, breathed, broken bread as family. They fled as fast as their feet would carry them, back into the dark of the tombs and out into the darkness of the stormy night beyond, knowing that the wrath of the Governor was not far behind them.


	6. Lark

_**WARNING:**  The next three chapters are the hardest part of this story, in terms of what happens to our people. It's dark, violent and gory. It has to be this way for our characters to grow and come together again at all. You have been warned.  
_

_I regret nothing. Enjoy! :)_

> _My cage has many rooms,_
> 
> _Damask and dark._
> 
> _Nothing there sings,_
> 
> _Not even my lark._
> 
> _Larks never will, you know,_
> 
> _When they're captive._
> 
> _Teach me to be more adaptive._
> 
> _**-Johanna, Sweeney Todd** _

  

* * *

_It was so warm, nestled in the glow of the sun shining through the window. The rocking chair in the corner was her favorite spot, the one place Ed wouldn’t dare touch her. Ed never came at her while she was in here. Not while Sophia was so small. Here, she could sit in her chair with her precious girl in her arms and take a few moments of peace for them both inside their cage. She hugged her tiny baby to her chest and hummed a soft lullaby, letting the slow rock of the chair soothe them both. Back and forth. Back and forth._  

_The lilting sounds of birdsong came through the open window. She lifted her head and could just make out the tiny lark in the tree outside, chirping it’s song in lovely counterpoint to her own melancholy lullaby. Still she rocked, back and forth. Back and forth._

_She managed a smile, shifting her gaze back down to see Judith yawn hugely, her tiny fist waving in the air. The sun was fading now, streaks of orange crisscrossed with shadows of the bars from the prison window slanting across the floor. Still the lark sang outside, still she hummed her lullaby, softer now, while she rocked back and forth. Back and forth._

_“Wake up, Mom.”_

_Her head shot up and she looked at Sophia, her eyes clear, hair shining, backlit by the dying sun. Sophia was smiling. She stood and stretched out her arms, holding Judith out towards Sophia. There was a noise from the hall, and they both turned their heads. She could just barely make out Carl standing in the shadows, out of reach from the sunlight. His head was tilted towards the window, listening to the lark’s song outside. She turned back to Sophia, arms still outstretched._

_“Do you want to hold her?”_

_Sophia shook her head, still smiling sadly. The light from the sun had turned from burnished orange to vivid red, casting them in a strange glow. The red light caressed Sophia’s shoulder and dripped down her neck, leaving bloody streaks on her daughter’s pale skin and down her blue shirt. There were footsteps echoing around the, mingling with the lark’s chirping song. Afraid, she looked away from the pale, sunken eyes of her daughter to find her arms were full of dirt. She gasped and let her arms fall to her sides, the dirt scattering all over the floor. The footsteps were growing closer, drowning out the screaming lark outside. She looked through the smoke and saw Carl was standing next to Sophia, delicate fingers wrapped around Carl’s right arm, tearing deep and leaving bits of his skin dangling from tiny fingernails. Carl didn’t say a word, just stared at her with huge eyes._  

_The footsteps were louder now, crashing all around her. They stopped just behind her. Before she could turn, all the noises stopped and there was silence as she watched the walls of the cage slowly crumble to the ground, leaving nothing but the sky beyond, beckoning to her. She felt the person behind her lean forward, her nose filling with the scent of pine, sweat and motorcycle oil. His voice, when he spoke into her ear, was low and soft, just for her._

_“Wake up, Carol.”_

Carol’s eyes shot open as she sat up with a gasp, hitting her head on the table overhead with a thunk. Glenn jumped up, promptly hitting his own head on the same table with a muttered curse. They clambered out from beneath the picnic table and shakily got to their feet. Carol held on to the table to steady herself; the nightmare had left her sleep-deprived body even more exhausted and she knew that the rest hadn’t helped.

“Son of a bitch,” Glenn swore. Carol already knew what she was going to see before she turned her head; she looked at the poncho, lying discarded on the ground in the dim morning light.

Carl was gone.

 

* * *

Daryl panted for breath as they ran, the muscles in his legs screaming for rest as they hurried forward.  _Can’t stop. Have to keep moving._  They had agreed to check the truck stop safe house first, as it was the closest place to the prison. According to Rick and Maggie, it made sense that most people would have headed there after the prison attack. Michonne had simply gone along in silent agreement.

24 hours ago, he’d left with Rick, Maggie and Michonne to pursue what had turned out to be a trick to lead them away from the prison. He’d chased a ghost, taken cover during a tornado, had a house fall on them, hidden from a herd, found their home had been destroyed and their people massacred, crawled through the tombs and killed a man. He dreaded to think of what the next 24 hours might hold in store for him. 

_Stay safe_ , he thought frantically as he ran, stumbling every other step over the uneven ground, hoping that somehow, the thought would reach her. _Please stay safe._  

Between his worry and the exhaustion, it took Daryl much longer than it should have to realize that the ground was not uneven by natural causes. He skidded to a halt, trying to muster enough breath from his burning lungs to holler at the others. Not noticing Daryl had stopped, Maggie crashed into him as he bent over to catch his breath; the momentum sending them both tumbling to the muddy ground. Daryl lay there sprawled in the dirt, his face buried in the imprints of links and rivets, and let his muscles relax for a moment. His body was shrieking for rest, for sleep, but he was too full of fear to stop.

Maggie climbed off of Daryl’s back and he took Rick’s extended hand, pulling himself to his knees to study the tracks in front of him.

“The tank was here,” Rick stated flatly.  _Thanks, Cap’n Obvious._

“Recently,” Daryl said as he laid a grimy hand on the dirt. “Tracks can’t be more than half a’ hour old. The sumbitches are close.”

“If we hurry, maybe we can catch up to them before they do any damage,” Rick said.

“How are we supposed to take out a tank?!” Maggie exclaimed.

“Figure it out when we get there,” Daryl said, hitching up his crossbow and starting to run again. _Blood begets blood. Time for some payment._

 

* * *

“I’m going to fucking kill that kid,” Glenn yelled. Carol had her knife in hand, quickly cutting a long strip of fabric from the bottom of Daryl’s poncho.

“Stop that,” Carol snapped as she finished cutting. “You’ll bring every walker in a mile radius right to us if you keep that up.” Glenn ignored her, continuing to hurl insults to the cloudy sky and cursing Carl’s name.

The sky was bright, glimmers of sunlight streaming through the blanket of grey clouds covering the sky. The grass shimmered with morning dew and the last remnants of the rain. It wasn’t raining anymore but the wind was picking up speed and Carol knew the bad weather was going to continue. She calmly folded up the poncho and shoved it back in her hobo bag. Taking the length of fabric she’d cut, she tied it around one of the pillars of the overhang above the picnic area. That’s the best I can do for a trail right now, Daryl.

“Glenn,” she said, trying to get his attention. “Glenn. GLENN!”

“WHAT?!” He whirled to face her, his face flushed red with anger.

“You have got to calm down,” Carol said, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders and shaking him.

“Calm?! Our home has been destroyed and now Carl is gone and WHY IS IT STILL RAINING?!” Glenn screamed as the first drops of rain started to fall. “I don’t know where Maggie is or if she’s even alive and we’ve lost everyone and we don’t have anywhere to go or any clothes-”

**_SMACK!_** The ringing slap of Carol’s palm across Glenn’s face echoed around them, leaving a stunned silence in it’s wake. They looked at each other, eyes wide, as Glenn held a hand to the red mark on his cheek. Carol raised an eyebrow at him.

“You got that out of your system now?”

Glenn nodded swiftly, rubbing his cheek. “Thank you.” 

Carol sighed and picked up her hobo bag, checking to make her she had both her knife and her gun tucked into her belt for easy access.

“Carl can’t have gotten far. The ground is still muddy enough that even we should be able to track him from here,” Carol said. “Look, see?” She pointed to a single set of footprints, leading away from their picnic area where they had spent the night.  _Someone really needs to teach that kid how to stay put._  

“Then let’s hurry,” Glenn said as he swung the backpack onto his shoulders. They set off at a run, heading into the trees. Carol kept her eyes on the trail itself, hoping Carl hadn’t gone too far.  It took them only a couple of yards to stumble upon the body of the first walker, a bullet hole clear in the center of it’s forehead.

“I didn’t think Carl had any bullets for his gun left,” Glenn huffed.

“Shit.” Carol grabbed her bag and quickly rummaged through the contents, pulling out the box of spare ammunition for her pistol. The box had been nearly full when she pulled it from her cell ( _God, was that just yesterday?_ ); it was now half empty. Carol closed her eyes in frustration, trying to keep her mind steady as she half-listened to Glenn swearing behind her. The melancholy tune of the lullaby she’d used to sing to Sophia as a baby came to her mind; the same haunting tune from her nightmare. Goosebumps suddenly appeared on her flesh and Carol shuddered in the cold breeze, trying to shake the melody from her mind.  _Think, Carol_.

The sudden burst of thunder Carol and Glenn freeze in place, haunted by the possibility of the tank bursting through the trees again. Glenn dropped to one knee and placed a palm on the ground.  _Please just be thunder. Please just be thunder._  

“No tremors,” he said shakily. “I think that one was actually thunder.”

They both raised their heads to the clouds. The clouds were a thick, fluffy dark grey blanket covering the sky; not nearly as dark as they had been the other day and without the greenish coloring that indicated a tornado. Still, Carol could tell the storm was definitely going to get worse before it got better.

“We can’t just run around in the woods waiting for them to find us,” Carol said, the memory of the tank and the darkening weather making her quiet. 

“So how do we find Carl?” Glenn asked.

_Fuck it._  “CARL!” Carol suddenly screamed, sending several startled birds fluttering into the sky from their nearby nest. Glenn jumped in surprise.

“Be careful,” Glenn hissed. “There could be walkers-”

“To hell with that,” Carol snarled, suddenly furious. “CARL!!”

“What?!”

Carol and Glenn spun around, guns raised and aimed at the new disturbance without hesitation.  _Daryl would be proud._  Carl stepped out from behind a thick tree, his gun hooked into his belt and his hands full of berries. Carol dropped her gun, flicking the safety back on with her thumb and shoving it into the back of her jeans as she strode towards Carl, Glenn hot on her heels.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she said furiously. Carl’s chin jutted forward in defiance.

“I just went to get some berries for breakfast,” he said sullenly. “I was just over there. I can handle myself.”

“That’s awesome, dude,” Glenn said, “but what about us? What if walkers showed up and you weren’t there to warn us? You were supposed to be on watch.”

“You guys are fine,” Carl said. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. We’re sitting here running around in the woods, hiding, when we should be back fighting to find the others. Nothing is going to catch us out here!” Carl stomped his foot, a few berries tumbling from his hands as he shook with anger.

“Carl, neither of us are doubting that you can take care of yourself,” Carol said heavily, trying to be patient when all she really wanted to do was strangle the kid herself. “But you were on watch. You  _promised_  us you would stay there, stay quiet and wake us up if you saw anything. Part of being an adult is accepting responsibility for the tasks you take on and  _keeping your word_.”

Carl shifted on his feet and looked at the ground in contempt. Carol knew that he knew she was right, but he didn’t want to admit his mistake. _Teenagers._  She wondered for a brief moment what Sophia would be like now if she had lived, and if Carol would be able to handle the mood swings of a teenage girl.  _Something I will never know._

“If all you wanted to do was go pick berries, that’s fine,” she continued, “but you should have woken one of us up. Right now, all we have is each other. We need to work together as a team if we’re going to survive and find the rest of our family. Right?”

Carl sighed and nodded his head, still looking at the ground. “Yes,” he mumbled quietly, his face full of anger. Carol reached out and gently took his chin in her fingers, tilting his face up until he was looking at her in the eye.

“That means we take care of each other,” she said gently. “We respect each other, help each other. No one - not you, not me, not Glenn - runs off by ourselves. Not without letting the other two know where we are going. We have to stick together if we’re going to survive. After everything we have all been through, that is something I would have thought you’d learned by now.” 

“I can take care of myself,” Carl muttered again, his face flushing red with anger. Carol dropped his chin with a frustrated sigh.

 “Then go,” she said abruptly. Glenn and Carl both looked at her in surprise. “You can take care of yourself? You don’t need us? Then go. Go, because I have family to find too and the longer I sit here arguing with your sorry, selfish ass, the longer it is going to take  _me_ to find the people  _I_  love. I hope you find your dad, Carl, because then you can tell him all about what a man you are and how you don’t need anyone except yourself.” Carol stepped back, adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder, and looked at Glenn. “Shall we?” 

Glenn nodded, his eyes twinkling as he looked back at her and hid his grin, having clearly caught onto her plan. “Let’s get going,” he said. “I want to find my Maggie.” They turned away from Carl, who was standing still in shock. He looked like such a little boy in that moment; his ten-gallon hat perched on his head, an armful of berries and his mouth open with surprise. Carol’s heart broke a little seeing him, seeing so much of her friend Lori in his face, and knew that if Lori were still alive she’d have sucker punched Carol by now.  _Stick to the plan._

“See you around, Grimes,” Glenn said over his shoulder as he and Carol started to walk away. Carol said nothing, just put one foot in front of the other and looked ahead of her steadily; her ears strained to pick up any noise from behind them.  _Come on, kiddo. Come on_. They’d gone about fifty feet when there was the sudden crackle of twigs snapping as Carl rushed to catch up to them. Carol glanced back over her shoulder to see the boy trudging along behind them, his head hanging slightly as he walked. She smirked at Glenn, who merely winked at her in reply. They walked a ways in silence, the only sounds the occasional crackle of leaves under their feet.

“You with us, Carl?” Carol asked quietly.

“Yes,” Carl whispered. 

“Then  _be with us_ ,” Carol said, reaching back to wrap an arm around the boy’s shoulders and pull him into her side as they walked. “That’s all I’m asking right now, okay? Let’s figure this out together.”

Carl sniffed and nodded, leaning his head against Carol’s shoulder. Glenn bumped his elbow into Carl’s other side and winked at him, earning a small smile from the boy.  _Hallelujah._  Crisis averted for the moment, the three of them made their way through the muddy forest in silence, listening to the woods around them. Carl picked at the fat yellow-green berries piled in his hands and Glenn cleared his throat nervously. 

“I wouldn’t, dude,” Glenn said. “Those are chinaberries. They’re poisonous.”

“Are you sure?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, there were lots of those trees in the apartment complex where I lived before,” Glenn said wistfully. “The manager was always posting reminders on our doors to not let our pets eat the berries, or try to eat them ourselves.”

“Oh,” Carl said glumly. He let his hands fall to his sides, the plump berries bouncing and rolling away on the ground. They walked in quiet for a few minutes, Carol’s arm still around Carl’s shoulders. He seemed in no hurry to shrug her off like normal, so she kept it there, trying to offer him any comfort he was willing to take.

“That’d be something good to ask Daryl about when we find them,” Carol said. Both man and boy looked at her and she smiled with what she hoped was confidence. Carl nodded and nestled back into her shoulder as they walked. 

A chirping song reached their ears and Carl looked up to the trees, trying to find the singing bird. He smiled, nudging Carol’s shoulder and pointing up. “See it?” he whispered. “I always liked those birds. Do you know what kind it is?” 

Carol looked where Carl was pointing, finding the tiny bird nestled among the green branches and fought off a sudden shudder, her body filled with a sudden sense of foreboding.

“It’s a lark.”

 

* * *

They were only a few hundred yards away from the truck stop when the first of the screams reached their ears, accompanied by the popping of gunfire. Daryl cursed as adrenaline coursed through him and pushed his body forward, running harder as he yanked his crossbow off his shoulder. Rick was ahead of him, his long legs pumping as he ran full tilt around the corner in the road that lead to the truck stop. They had followed the trail of the tank as quickly as they could in their condition. Not fast enough. Michonne and Maggie were behind him; he could hear them panting for breath as they ran, trying to keep up. 

He made the corner in the road and could finally see the truck stop ahead. The tank was parked in front, the long gun raised to firing position. The top hatch was open; one man was standing up, his upper body leaning out of the tank as he watched his companion on the ground shoot a row of 6 people up against the wall of the truck stop, execution style. Daryl didn’t hesitate; too far away to hit the executioner, he aimed for the observer in the tank. The bolt went neatly through the man’s skull, blood splashing through the air as his body slumping over before falling down the hole back inside the tank. He kept moving as Rick bolted forward, bringing the butt of his Colt down hard on the head of the executioner as he fired a shot at the last person standing up against the wall. The executioner fell to the ground, out cold, and Daryl skidded to a stop next to Rick as Maggie and Michonne rushed forward to check the bodies of the people who had just been shot. Daryl clutched his stomach and tried to catch his breath as he gazed down without surprise at the executioner. 

It was Martinez.

“HEY!” Maggie’s yell snagged his attention. “He’s still alive!” She was bent over the last victim of Martinez’s execution line, her hands braced on his chest as she tried to stop the bleeding. Rick gestured to Daryl as he pulled out a set of handcuffs from his back pocket.  _Still playin’ the cop_. Daryl rushed over to Maggie and knelt down next to her, trying to identify the vaguely familiar man slumped on the ground and gasping for breath.

“His name is Bob. Bob Stookey,” Maggie whispered. Daryl’s mind clicked him into place. _From Woodbury, helped Hershel and Carol with the medical stuff._ The memory of the man’s face, lit by fire and screaming for blood as Daryl fought Merle in the Governor’s pit flashed through his mind, but Daryl shoved it down. He’d had to do that with most of the Woodbury residents. Rick was wrestling Martinez’s unconscious body inside the truck stop; at the edge of his line of sight he could just make out Michonne climbing up the tank to check the inside. Daryl lifted Maggie’s hands from Bob’s chest to check the wound beneath it. Martinez’s shot was fired just as Rick knocked him out; the shot had gone wide and was buried deep in the man’s chest on the left side. Daryl winced; it was bad, blood flowing freely. Daryl lifted the man’s shoulder up and checked his back; the exit wound was huge, flesh shredded around the gaping hole where the bullet had gone out. The blood flow was worse back here. It was very clear to Daryl that an artery had been hit and Bob didn’t have long. He looked at Maggie and shook his head once. She sighed and hung her her head.

Daryl glanced to his right to look at the line of people Martinez had executed. They were all recent additions from Woodbury; no sign of Carol, Glenn, Carl, Hershel, Beth or Judith. Daryl heaved a quiet sigh of relief, followed by an instant flood of shame. Still bad news. Rick came back outside and knelt down next to Daryl.

“No one else is here,” he whispered. Damn.

“Bob here ain’t got long,” Daryl whispered back. He heard Michonne come up behind them and turned to look at her questioningly. She shook her head at him. No one else was inside the tank. “Least that’s somethin’ in our favor.”

“Bob,” Rick said softly. “Was anyone else here? Anyone from our camp?”

Bob was shaking so bad that Daryl couldn’t tell if he was nodding yes or no. His skin was growing paler by the second as the blood poured from his body, seeping out in a growing puddle beneath him to soak the already ruined knees of Daryl’s cargo pants. Bob’s mouth opened; a bubble of blood and spittled rose and popped as he tried to speak. Daryl was filled with sudden sympathy for the dying man in front of him.

“He’s suffering,” Michonne said quietly. He glanced at Rick and knew the other man was thinking the same thing.  _Flashes of Dale._  In front of them, Bob gurgled and suddenly tensed as more blood frothed from his mouth. Daryl rose to his feet and stepped back, suddenly overwhelmed as Rick and Maggie moved forward to try to still the shuddering, twitching man as he choked on his own blood. There was a wet cough and a moan, and Bob Stookey’s body slumped to the ground, suddenly still, his eyes looking unseeing at the cloudy sky. Rick and Maggie both bowed their heads as they removed their blood-soaked hands from Bob’s body.

Daryl took another step back, the line of dead bodies too much, and turned away towards the tank. The rain started to fall harder, but the splish splash of water on the roof of the truck stop behind him wasn’t enough to drown out the swish of Michonne’s sword as she swiftly drove her katana through the heads of each of the fallen Woodburians.  _This ain’t never gonna end._  Daryl’s chest hurt, the ache of overtaxed muscles mingling with grief and frustration. He let the rain soak into him, his hair hanging limply in front of his eyes. 

_‘You need a haircut,’ She said with a smile. She’d been bugging him about it for days, taking it upon herself to pull teasingly at the long locks whenever she passed him by._  

_‘S’ fine, long as I can see the squirrels to shoot’ he grumbled, trying not to blush. ‘Ain’t tryin’ to win a beauty contest.’_

_‘Well, handsome,’ she teased, ‘when you miss the squirrel because you can’t see, I get to say I told you so.’_  

_‘That’ll be the day,’ he shot back with a smirk, pleased with himself for being able to return her banter for once. He didn’t want to admit he’d already missed several squirrels on his hunt because of his hair. How could he admit he was keeping it long for her, loving it every time she played with his hair?_

Daryl sucked in a deep breath, willing the cool air to ease his muscles and calm the fire of anxiousness inside of him.  _She’s alive_ , he reminded himself. _Carol’s alive. We’ll find her and the first words out of her mouth are gonna be tellin’ me I need a haircut._  There was a touch on his shoulder; Daryl jerked and spun around, raising his crossbow as he stepped back to asses the thread. Michonne stood with her hands in the air, her katana sheathed for the moment. Daryl sighed and lowered his weapon.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Michonne just nodded at him, her expression tired but calm.

“Let’s check inside,” she said softly. Daryl nodded as she drew forth her sword again and led the way inside the truck stop. 

It was dark inside as he and Michonne checked every corner for friends or walkers. Nothing greeted them except dust and cobwebs. The air was thick and stale, so Daryl left the door propped open behind them to allow some fresh air to come in. They checked every closet, every crevice, gathering up supplies and bringing them back to the main room. Daryl checked the shower room at the back of the truck stop; testing the water in the shower stalls. Still running. One of the reasons they had chosen the truck stop was that the place had its own well, so running water was still available here. Not finding anything, Daryl made his way back outside, where Michonne had already joined Rick and Maggie. He leaned against the door frame, settling his crossbow at his feet, but still within a second’s reach of he needed it. 

“Nobody else has been here,” Michonne was saying. “Looks like it was just the 6 of them. Did you see anything in the back?” she asked, turning to Daryl. He simply shook his head at her. 

“Damnit,” Rick said. “I thought for sure...” He let his sentence trail off, not needing to finish it. Daryl knew they had all thought they rest of their family would be here. Part of him was glad they weren’t; Carol would have been dead at Martinez’s hand if they were. The real question now was, where were they?

“They could be at the pharmacy, or the gas station, or the bar,” Maggie said hopefully. “One of the other places we’d talked about setting up.”

“I don’t think anyone is at the bar,” Rick said. “That is east of the prison, too close to Woodbury. It was never a good idea for a bolt hole to begin with.”

“The gas station is the furthest spot from the prison,” Michonne said.

“Besides, anyone headed that way would have had to go out the back of the prison. I don’t see how anyone could have gotten through that mess,” Maggie shuddered. Daryl agreed silently. They’d crept around the perimeter of the prison after going back out through the tombs. The back fence was swarming with the Governor’s men. Daryl and Maggie had crept past, hidden by the trees, but had to turn back at the herd still swarming the tree line beyond the back fence, scavenging from the remains of their friends. Daryl and Maggie had desperately tried to check each body from their hiding place, trying to name as many of their fallen comrades as they could.

“Biggest damn herd I’ve ever seen,” Daryl said. “Not to mention the tornado went that way. Not the smartest path to take.”

“So, the pharmacy?” Maggie asked. Daryl nodded. It was the most likely spot for anyone else to have taken refuge.

“We need to stop,” Rick said with a sigh. “If we don’t get some rest we won’t be good to anyone.”

Daryl wanted to argue, every inch of him screaming to get out there and find Carol and the others, but he knew that Rick was right. None of them had slept or eaten in over 24 hours; if they were going to find the rest of their family, they needed to get some sleep.

“Water’s runnin’,” Darl said. “There’s still clothes in the main room. Should be able to find somethin’ to change into.”

“We can load up supplies too,” Maggie said. “This place is still pretty well stocked. I remember Glenn saying he’d avoided raiding it on runs in case we needed to come here.” 

“Fine,” Rick said determinedly. “We break for a while. Rest, eat, maybe shower. Then we head to the pharmacy.”

“Can’t say long,” Daryl said. “Gov’nor is gonna come lookin’ for that tank when it don’t come back.” 

“We’ll be careful and quick,” Rick said.

“What about the bodies?” Maggie asked.

They turned to look at the line of dead bodies as they debated whether to bury them or burn them. In the end, Rick and Daryl had simply piled the bodies together on the far side of the tank and covered them with a large blue tarp, taken from the pile of supplies inside the truck stop. Rick talked about coming back to bury them properly, but Daryl knew it wasn’t going to happen. Maggie and Michonne had showered while the men moved the bodies. Michonne organized supplies into piles for each of them to carry and Maggie scrounged for a few tins cans of food to serve as dinner while Rick and Daryl took turns in the showers. 

Daryl pulled on the clean clothes he’d found with a happy moan. The cargo pants were a size smaller than he would normally have worn but he was surprised to find they fit. He sighed, realizing just how much weight he’d lost in the last months with their supplies stretched so thin. The clean socks were his favorite part, and he’d set aside several extra pairs to put in whatever bag Michonne planned to give him to carry supplies. He pulled on his boots and sat down with his knife, methodically cutting the sleeves off of the green button down he’d found. He’d found a thick red flannel shirt among the racks of clothing out front; he’d decided to use it to keep warm in place of his poncho. He hoped his poncho was being put to good use.  _Wonder if it smells like her now._

Daryl shook his head; now was not the time to be having that thought. He followed Rick back to the main room and settled down with his crossbow on a chair next to the long front window, keeping himself at an angle that no one would be able to see him from the outside, but he could still see out. Michonne was standing guard over the unconscious Martinez, who was handcuffed to the handle of an empty refrigeration unit plastered with advertisements for energy drinks. They’d agreed to keep him unconscious for the moment to try, wanting to rest before they interrogated him. Maggie brought him a tin of Vienna sausages and a plastic fork; with a grimace, Daryl tucked into his dinner and settled in for the first watch as Maggie and Rick quickly stretched out on the cold tile floor and fell asleep.

Daryl listened in meditative silence to the wind and rain outside as the hours passed; on any other day he would find the sounds of the storm soothing, but today they ground on his nerves. Rain washed away tracks, making the job in front of him that much harder.

_I’m comin’, Carol. We’re lookin’ for you, but if you could give me a sign, somethin’ to help me find you, that’d sure be helpful._

Daryl’s ears caught the faint chirping of birds far up in the trees outside. He shuffled his chair a bit more towards the front door, which he’d left cracked open slightly, to better hear the song.

> _‘More books?’ he asked, stumbling over a large pile set just inside the door of their cell. It had been a long, hot day and he was sticky with dirt and sweat. All he wanted was to fall into bed, but instead he’d almost fallen over a pile of books. Carol was stretched out on her bed, already in her nightclothes, reading by the light of a small candle set inside an empty tuna can._
> 
> _‘Glenn brought them back from his run,’ she said, not taking her eyes from the thick, leather-bound book in front of her. He twitched slightly, wanting her full attention._
> 
> _‘There any food to go along with those books?’_
> 
> _‘Don’t be grumpy,’ she said. ‘It’s good that we have books to read again.’_
> 
> _‘Always use ‘em for kindling, I s’pose,’ he muttered, trying to get a rise out of her. He couldn’t believe he was jealous of a book, but he was used to having her full attention when they were around each other._
> 
> _‘Ha ha,’ she smirked, clearly not taking his threat seriously. He kicked off his boots and settled with a sigh on top of the blankets on his bed. He chewed on his thumbnail in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft whisper of turning pages from the bed above him._
> 
> _‘Whatcha readin’,’ he finally asked._
> 
> _‘Shakespeare,’ she said softly. He arched an eyebrow at the bunk above him and was about to comment when her voice drifted down to him again. ‘Don’t you dare laugh.’_
> 
> _‘Wasn’t gonna,’ he denied quickly. He shifted around on his bed, getting more comfortable as his body slowly relaxed. ‘Haven’t read any of that since school. Never understood it much anyway.’ He was glad she couldn’t see him blush as he heard her chuckle above him. Anybody else would have gotten a death glare for that, but he knew instinctively that she wasn’t laughing at him._
> 
> _‘It’s ok,’ she said. ‘It took me a while to figure out what it all means too.’ The cell filled with their comfortable silence again. Normally, he loved that he could be this relaxed with her in the room and not have to talk, but tonight he wanted to hear her voice._
> 
> _‘It was weird to read the plays without seein’ ‘em,’ he said quietly._
> 
> _‘Yeah, I always struggled with that too,’ she replied. ‘I’m just reading some of the sonnets right now.’ Poetry. One of the many things he was never fond of and he realized there was still so much about this woman he didn’t know. The next words shot out of him before he could think._
> 
> _‘Read it to me?’_
> 
> _There was a long pause from above him. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head and his breath caught at the thought that he’d embarrassed himself when her soft voice drifted down to him from her bed._
> 
> _‘“When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,_
> 
> _I all alone beweep my outcast state,_
> 
> _And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,_
> 
> _And look upon myself and curse my fate...”’_
> 
> _It was the first of many nights he had her read aloud to him._

Daryl’s eyes found the tiny larks in the trees as they sang back and forth to each other and he settled back in his chair to listen to their song. _Stay safe, Carol. I’m comin’._  

* * *

“My feet hurt,” Carl whined.

“I know,” Carol sighed. “We’re almost there.”

They’d been walking all day as the rain fell on and off, only stopping once sometime around midday to eat and let Carol change the bandage on her arm. _I think it was midday. It’s hard to tell with this stupid storm._  The rain was intermittent but the clouds remained thick and dark in the sky. It was getting even darker now as they walked. The sun must be setting. Carol’s arm ached where she’d been shot, but it wasn’t bleeding for the moment. She took a slug of water and shivered with cold and frisson of something else. She’d woken up on edge, and between her nightmares and Carl’s morning “adventure”, her nerves had never settled down. The three of them had spent most of the day walking in silence, trying to find some kind of refuge where they could hole up and make their plans. It had been about 2 hours since Glenn realized they were close to a farm he’d spotted on a run several months ago. There hadn’t been much on the farm when he’d scavenged it with Maggie and Daryl, signs showing the farm had been abandoned long before the dead rose. Glenn had suggested it as a good place for the three of them to hide; lacking any better option and wanting to get out of the cold, Carol and Carl had agreed. 

They had jumped the fence a while ago and were making their way through a large wheat field, the tall stalks of grain brushing against Carol’s skin as she moved. They could see buildings up ahead as they moved out of the field and into the heart of the property. There was a smaller building, some type of storage shed, built of thick wooden planks just a few yards ahead. Past that, the familiar structure of a large barn and then the farm house itself, it’s structure eerily similar to the house on the Greene farm.

“Hold up,” Glenn panted. “Just need a water break.” Carol had the water in her bag, and stopped walking to pull out a bottle for Glenn. She was so tired, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see Carl had gone up ahead until he was almost to the barn.

“Hey Carl, wait for us,” she called out. Carl raised an arm in acknowledgement and came to a halt. 

“At least he’s listening this time,” Glenn said. 

“Hush,” Carol said, smacking him lightly on his shoulder. She took the bottle back from Glenn and shoved it back into her bag. “What do you think? Barn or house for the night?”

 “I think...,” Glenn said slowly. “...I think I’m going to kill Carl.”

“What?” Carol turned to see Carl pulling his gun from his belt and aiming it at the barn. No,  _behind_  the barn.  _Something’s behind the barn._  Glenn moved first and Carol fell into step right behind him as they ran to Carl; they could just barely make out the walker stumbling out from behind the barn as the shot rang out from Carl’s gun. The walker dropped to the ground but as Carol and Glenn reached Carl, the telltale moans reached her ears. They turned back to see walking appearing from between the tall stalks of wheat.

“Jesus, we went _right past them_  and had  _no idea_ ,” Glenn exclaimed.

“House,” Carol said shortly. They turned and bolted for the farm house. She drew her pistol from her belt and checked quickly to make sure it was loaded. With her other hand, she felt for her knife and was relieved to find it just where she had left it, threaded through the loops of her belt. She heard the soft pop of Carl’s gun and turned to see him firing at more walkers appearing from behind the barn as they ran.  _Damn._

They hit the porch just as the front door slammed open. The three of them stumbled back down the front steps and onto the lawns as more walkers stumbled out the door; Carol could see more shadows moving inside the house through the windows.

“Oh my God,” Carl breathed.

“We walked right into a herd,” Carol realized. She raised her gun and started firing at the walkers coming from the house.  _One. Two. Three._ She tried to keep count in her head as she fired, knowing the fourteen rounds her gun held would run out fast.  _Seven. Eight. Nine._  She heard the rapports of Carl and Glenn’s guns as they fired into the herd coming at them from all sides.

“SHED,” Glenn yelled. Knowing they had nowhere else to run, Carol started to make her way towards the small shed near the wheat field.  _Thirteen. Fourteen._  The click of the hammer meeting the empty chamber. Carol’s heart sank and she shoved her gun back into her belt and pulled out her knife, knowing she didn’t have time to reload. She ran faster, driving her knife into the eye of a walker in stained overalls, letting the body fall to her feet and stepping over it without a second thought. Glenn was already at the shed door, firing into the herd as they closed in on the small structure. 

“Come on, Carl!” Glenn screamed as she reached the door. Carol turned to see Carl running back towards the house. “What the hell is he doing?!”

“Oh god,” Carol moaned. She could see the dark shape of Carl’s hat on the ground. Walker must have knocked it off his head. Stepping slightly behind Glenn, she pulled out her gun and the box of ammunition, shoving bullets into the clip with shaking hands as Glenn continued to shoot at the encroaching walkers. Carol jammed the clip back in the gun and snapped the safety off. She stepped around Glenn and raised her arm to give Carl some cover fire just in time to see Carl scream with agony as a tiny female walker, not much younger than Carl himself, grabbed him by his right arm and sank her teeth into his flesh.


	7. Blood and Water

_**A/N:**  _ _Funny story for you guys: we had severe thunderstorms during the days I originally wrote this chapter. Like, thunder that shakes the whole house, hail, lightening, crazy winds, the whole nine yards. Four days in a row. The first night, we got the emergency broadcast warning right before we lost power. We lost power twice more due to the storms in the area. The damage to my neighborhood was minimal, luckily, but for days it was dark as night outside since about noon. Needless to say, I felt like I was being haunted by my own fic. Weird._

_**WARNING:**  Oh, Carl. Blood. Grime. Yeah. Oh, and did I mention lots of Caryl feels? Cause that happens here. *sigh* I didn't want to say this but before the lynch mob that certain people keep threatening me with actually forms (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), this chapter marks the halfway point of the story. I promise, this is not going to be all blood and angst. That changes... ok, not in the next chapter, cause I'm the devil, but soon.  **I promise.**  Please don't lynch me._

* * *

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The bullet whizzed out the end of Carol's gun and moved through the air ever so slowly, taking far too much time to penetrate the grey, moulding skin of the walker's head. A shower of blood splashed into the air as the bullet went straight through the walker's skull. It's teeth pulled slowly, so slowly, out of Carl's skin as the tiny body fell to the ground; long fingernails that had embedded into Carl's forearm leaving long, jagged tears in his flesh. Glenn was already moving towards Carl, grabbing him by his torso and carrying the boy fireman style over his shoulder. She could hear the low boom of shots being fired, low and deep, muffled with the sounds of the walkers' hissing groans. Walkers were falling around them in slow motion; it took Carol a moment to realize she was the one firing on the mob with deadly accuracy, her body reacting instinctively to the chaos around them. The haze of smoke, bullets, spraying blood and decayed flesh made her vision shake, giving everything a sheen as though she was seeing it through a wall of water. The only clear image in her sight was Glenn, moving towards her slowly, carrying a wriggling Carl. They reached her just as she ran out of bullets. Her finger pulled on the trigger resulted in nothing but the small click indicating an empty clip; the sound of the click speeding up time around her with frightening clarity.  _Move, Carol!_

Carol and Glenn dragged Carl into the shed and slammed the door on the walkers just behind them, plunging the three of them into total darkness. The sharp slap of walkers hitting their rotted hands against the outside walls of the shed filled her ears. Carl was crying, screaming, the coppery smell of blood filling her nose as her other senses heightened from her lack of sight. She felt frantically along the wall, instinctively searching for a light switch before her brain kicked in and reminded her that there was no power out was a clatter of things falling, a heavy thud, then a small beam of light came on and she could see. Glenn had found his flashlight and was shining it frantically around the room, trying to get a sense of where they were.

The shed was small, the walls built from thick planks of raw wood, no more than 12 feet long and 10 feet across. The floor was nothing more than roughly poured concrete. The shed had clearly been built by hand some time ago. There were no windows; the only door the one they had just entered through.  _No escape._  The thud of walkers slapping against the outside walls increased as more and more of them reached the shed. Carol shook with fear, wondering just how long the shed could hold up against the onslaught of the dead.  _Thump. Thump. Thump._

The shed had clearly been used for storage but had been abandoned for some time, the shelves built into the walls holding nothing more than a thick layer of dust. There was a small table in the center of the room; given the debris on the floor around the table, it had previously held a small collection of clay flower pots. The table now held Carl Grimes, his arm gushing blood onto the scattered pieces of clay on the ground. Above the table, there hung a simple light; nothing more than a cord with a single, naked light bulb on the end, a long chain dangling from the cord. Glenn reached up and pulled the chain; incredibly, the room filled with a dim, yellow light. Carol didn't give any thought to how the shed still had power; she just rushed to the table, throwing her hobo bag on one of the nearby shelves.

"Find something to barricade the door," she ordered Glenn. Glenn clicked off his flashlight and moved around the small room as she leaned over Carl, trying to ignore the thuds and cries of the dead as she ripped off the sleeve from Carl's tee shirt and inspected his arm.

The walker had taken a decent chunk out of his upper arm; the pale white of the humerus bone clearly visible through the mess of shredded tissue and muscles. His skin of his lower arm was torn with gashes from the walker's fingers, small fountains of blood spurting from the opened veins. There was a screech of metal on concrete; Carol turned to see Glenn dragging a metal cabinet with long drawers in front of the door. All the while, the thud of walkers against the wood echoed around them.  _Thump. Thump. Thump._

"That's all we've got," Glenn panted as he rushed over to them. He took a glance at Carl's arm and looked at Carol, fear filling his eyes. "Oh God," he breathed. "Carol..."

Carl lay on the table, his soul stripped bare for them to see the last piece of the child he still was; dirty, sweating and bleeding, fat tears ran down his cheeks as he cried for his mother. Carol swallowed the lump in her throat and placed her hand over the bite wound on Carl's arm; leaning over the sobbing boy, she put her other hand to his cheek, gently turning his face so he could look her in the eye.

"Carl," she said with a trembling voice. "Carl, sweetheart, I know it hurts." _Thump. Thump. Thump._

"I don't want to die," Carl sobbed. "I don't want to die. I'm not ready. I don't want to die."

Carol bowed her head with a shuddering breath.  _Think, Carol._  It was Daryl's voice in her head, the low, slightly raspy gentle tone she'd come to cherish.  _There ain't time to slow down, now. You know what to do._

"Glenn," she said softly. "Check and see what's inside the cabinet." Glenn looked at her, completely lost. She gave him a frustrated look and nodded to the cabinet by the door,  _stop fucking questioning me and go check_  clearly written all over her face. Glenn nodded and bolted over to the cabinet, throwing the top drawer open with a loud crash.

"Um, fabric," he called back. "Lots of fabric." Another crash; he'd opened the second drawer. The thumps against the walls grew louder, the noise they were making agitating the walkers outside.  _Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Thread," Glenn called over the snarling cries of the dead crashing over them. "Just lots of thread." A third crash; Glenn had opened the bottom drawer. "Last one's empty."

"Any needles?" Carol asked in a flat tone. Glenn turned to stare at her over his shoulder, having finally caught onto her plan. She quirked an eyebrow at him.  _Hurry up._  Glenn turned back and rifled through the middle drawer again.

"Yes," he cried, pulling a small packet containing sewing needles of various sizes from the drawer. Carol's body tensed, anxiety running through her veins as she leaned back over Carl, putting her face close to his.

"Carl," she said. "Sweetheart, I need you to look at me."

A loud crackle of thunder sounded overhead, drowning out the walkers; Carl cried out and squeezed his eyes shut, his body arching off the table as he jumped in shock from the noise. With a whoosh, the heavens opened, the sound rain suddenly falling in gushing sheets reaching her ears. Water started to trickle down through gaps in the roof, falling in dripping trails all around the room.  _Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Carl," she said again. "Look at me." Watery brown eyes met her own. Carol could see so much pain and fear in those eyes.  _That's what Sophia looked like before she died_ , the voice of her dead husband suddenly arising to taunt her. She choked the thought back down and forced herself to stay focused on Carl. Glenn came up on the other side of the table and put a shaky hand on Carl's shoulder, sweat and tears running down his own face.

"I don't want to die," Carl whimpered again. He was growing paler; Carol knew she had only minutes left if this had a hope of working. She stroked his cheek with gentle fingers.

"Carl, do you understand what I'm going to have to do?" she asked him. Glenn was staring at her; they both knew that practicing C-Sections on walkers was one thing, but this was wholly different.  _You can do this, Carol._  Daryl's voice again. The steady  _thump, thump, thump_  of the banging on the walls taking on the fiercely pounding rhythm of her own heart.  _Thump. Thump. Thump._

Carl nodded shakily. "Please don't let me die, Carol," he pleaded.

"Can you do this?!" Glenn whispered at her. She ignored him, focusing all of her energy on the boy below her.

"Belt," Carol ordered Glenn. She didn't take her eyes off of Carl as she listened the faint jingle of Glenn removing his belt amid the sounds of the storm and the walkers. The strip of leather was thrust into her vision as Glenn moved around the table. Carol took her hand off of Carl's cheek and indicated to Glenn where to wrap the belt around Carl's arm; just below the joint of his shoulder. Glenn worked quickly as Carol took her hand to her own belt and pulled out her knife, the only sharp tool they had. She set the knife on the table next to Carl; reaching behind her, she grabbed her hobo bag off the shelf and set it next to Carl's leg. She pulled out the bottle of Southern Comfort and poured it over her knife. Glenn was suddenly holding out a scrap of fabric to her; he'd grabbed some from the top drawer. She took it thankfully, wiped her blade with the relatively clean cloth and shoved it in her pocket.

Glenn stepped back and nodded at Carol, moving back to the other side of the table.  _Now or never._  She leaned over and kissed Carl on his forehead.  _Thump. Thump. Thump._

"I'm so sorry," she breathed. Carl sobbed and nodded his head at her. She stepped back, removing her other hand from the bite wound on his arm. Glenn hand a hand on Carl's chest, the other across his legs, bracing the boy down as she raised her knife.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Lori. Rick. I'm so sorry._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

The knife fell. Blood splashed everywhere as Carl's shrieks of agony ripped around the room, bouncing off the walls with a ringing echo, timed with each downward thrust of Carol's blade as she sawed through tissue and bone.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Splashes of whiskey from the bottle of Southern Comfort, cleaning the new wound as best it could. Cold rivets of water pouring down on them from the roof, droplets plinking on the ground, the shelves, the table, them.

_It's a Cherokee Rose._

Scraping the side of the knife along the bone, filing it down. Carl had thankfully passed out.

_The story is that when American soldiers were movin' Indians off their land on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grievin' and cryin' so much 'cause they were losing their little ones along the way from exposure and disease and starvation._

The sound of ripping thread; Glenn was tearing the fabric from the drawers into long strips for bandages.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_A lot of them just disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer; asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits, give them strength and hope. The next day this rose started to grow where the mothers' tears fell._

_How many tears had already fallen for this boy on the table? How many Cherokee roses had already bloomed for Carl?_  Suddenly not being able to breathe, unable to think of the next step in the surgery, the words from the medical books she'd read fading as panic threatened to overtake her. Her heart pounded like it was trying to break free from her body and sprint away. Carol froze, dropping her head onto the table, uncaring of the bloody mess. She choked, trying to swallow back the bile thick and full in her throat as she gasped, heedless of Glenn's concerned voice calling her name.

_Carol._

_Daryl, why aren't you here?_

_Breathe, baby._  He'd never in his life called her baby. Oh, how she wished he would. _Just breathe. You've got this._

She gulped, trying to hold back the onslaught of tears threatening to burst from her. _I don't have this._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Yes, you do. Come on, Carol. Open your eyes, baby._

Carol forced her eyes open. He was _there_ , she could see him crouching down next to her in his leather vest and ragged sleeveless shirt, knee poking out of his threadbare cargo pants. His blue eyes locked onto hers, giving her that calm, steady gaze of his, silently feeding her strength.

_You know how to do this. Get up, baby. Get up, Carol_

She blinked and the vision was gone; she was staring at nothing but a swirling puddle of blood and rainwater. Her pulse was steady though as she remembered what she needed to do to complete the surgery. Carol raised her head; nodding to Glenn, she got back to work.

_Thump. Thump._

Tying off the arteries, snipping the ends of the cut muscles and tendons as neatly as possibly with the knife in the dull glow from the light bulb above. Breathing in and out, in and out. Checking Carl's pulse, slow and faint but steady.

Minutes bled into hours as she worked, only stopping now to periodically check Carl's pulse. Glenn, the walkers, the storm; everything else slowly faded away as she focused on her task. Snip. Cut. The only sounds now permeating her consciousness were the slow, steady pulse of Carl's life under her fingers and her own breath going in and out, in and out. Placing her lips on Carl's forehead; clammy, but no fever.

Threading the largest of the needles with several strands of thread, knotted together as one thick strand. Poking the needle in and out, in and out. Stitch, stitch, stitch. The small first aid kit from the gas station opened at her side now, pulling out the alcohol wipes and cleaning the blood around the stitches as best she could. Wrapping Carl's arm with gauze and tape from the kit, covering that with the soft strips of fabric Glenn had prepared.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._  A deep roll of thunder rumbling softly overhead. Sound slowly trickled back into Carol's consciousness as she stood up straight, spine cracking as she moved and stretched. Water was still trickling down through the ceiling, but less now, the torrential downpour of rain having settled since she'd started operating on Carl. It was quieter now, the sounds of the storm still being punctuated by the harsh thwack of walkers banging on their little haven, but Carol noticed there didn't seem to be as many walkers outside now. Glenn was still, sitting on the cabinet he'd used to barricade the door with his legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around himself and his chin balancing on his knees.

"They've been leaving slowly for the past couple of hours." Glenn answered her unspoken question. "I think once Carl passed out, the storm distracted them. It got pretty wild outside for a while."

"I didn't even notice." Carol's voice was scratchy and thick from hours of not speaking. She coughed, trying to clear her throat.

"I could tell," Glenn smiled softly. He reached into his backpack and held out a bottle of water to her, which she took gratefully. Glenn looked at her carefully as she drank. "Do you think it worked?"

Carol sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "There isn't any way to tell right now. He doesn't have a fever yet, which is good. I guess we just wait it out."

_Thump. Thump._

"You should try to rest," Glenn said softly. "I'll keep watch tonight. Carl needs you to be strong." Carol just nodded, using the last of the water from the bottle to clean her hands as exhaustion seeped into her body. She grabbed the poncho from her tattered bag and wrapped it around her shoulders as she sank to the cold ground, her back against the cabinet. Her eyes closed and she tried to ignore the moans and thunks of the walkers still outside.

_I knew you could do it, baby._

She smiled and let the tears finally fall silently down her face as she drifted off to sleep.


	8. Lost and Found

_**A/N:**  This is the only chapter where we will see a POV from someone other than Daryl or Carol. I know I've given you guys a lot of angst and a lot of darkness with this fic. This chapter starts off no different, but I think you'll find it worthwhile in the end._

* * *

**Chapter 8: Lost and Found**

The sickening crunch of breaking bones splintered through the air, followed by Martinez' agonized howling. A muscle twitched in Daryl's cheek as he watched the man, still handcuffed to the empty drinks cooler, writhing around on the ground. The interrogation had been going for a while now, but Martinez's loyalty to ( _or fear of_ ) the Governor ran deep and they hadn't gained any new information. Michonne paced back and forth at Martinez's feet with her sword unsheathed, Rick and Daryl standing guard on either side of him while Maggie kept watch at the window, gun drawn. Without warning, Michonne dropped to one knee and brought the handle of her katana down hard on Martinez's bare ankle, wielding the weapon like a policeman's nightstick, filling the air again with the crackle of shattered bone. Martinez screamed curses at her as he twitched and shuddered on the ground, curling in on himself in pain. Daryl felt no sympathy for the man; not since Randall had twisted his gut with his tale his group coming across the man and his two daughters had Daryl felt so little for another human being. The only person who ranked lower on Daryl's list than Martinez, currently, was One-Eye himself. The darkest part of Daryl, the part Daryl tried to hard to keep down, was  _glad_  to see the man squirming on the ground in pain; a just suffering for the agony he'd caused to Daryl's family in the last two days.

"Fuckin' answer the question," Daryl growled. "Where else you been in that big ol' tank of yours, Martinez?"

"Piss off," came the snarled reply.

 _Crack!_  Michonne had struck again, this time on the other ankle. Blood pooled on the ground beneath Martinez's leg, a sharp fragment of bone piercing it's way through the skin to stand out in stark white relief against the bloody wound. 

"Ain't gonna ask again," Daryl said as he drew his knife. "Just gonna start cuttin' off fingers, one knuckle at a time." Michonne stood to raise her blade to Martinez's throat as Daryl knelt down and grasped his uncuffed hand. Above them, Rick shifted on his feet.

"There isn't a way out of this for you," Rick said. "Either way, you're a dead man."

"Then why the fuck should I tell you anything?" Martinez growled.

"Because you get to decide how to die." Rick's smile was chilling. "Talk, and we end you quickly. Don't talk, we carve you up, just enough to leave you unable to walk, crawl or hold a weapon. Just enough that you can't move while we watch as you slowly bleed out." Rick knelt down next to Daryl; on any other day, the smile gracing Rick's face would have made Daryl's flesh crawl.  _Man 's gettin' into this._

"Don't believe you," Martinez taunted. "Thought you were the good guys. This ain't your style, remember?"

"That was before you killed our family," Michonne said softly. "Before you spilled our blood, innocent blood. Those people used to depend on you, used to break bread with you. Look at how you've repayed that." 

"So we're taking a leaf from the Governor's book now," Rick said as he stood back up. "It's up to you, Martinez. How do you want this to be?" 

Martinez swallowed, looking at each of their faces in turn. Daryl wondered what the man could see: Rick, still sporting that cold, deadly smile; Michonne, her blade pointed at his jugular, like a snake ready to strike; Daryl, knife drawn and face colder than he'd ever seen on the older Dixon. Daryl's skin felt like ice but inside, his blood was boiling with rage. Daryl wanted to carve into the man, wanted to hurt him. He wanted to draw blood for all of the bodies left scattered in the remains of the prison, for the tiny children left piled in pools of their own blood, for Merle, for Andrea, for the members of his family still unaccounted for, but most of all for Carol. Carol, out there somewhere alone with walkers everywhere and a madman chasing her. Sweet, gentle, sassy, smiling Carol, with her tiny, delicate bones and soft skin so susceptible to bullets, knives and a walker's teeth. Carol, whom he'd sworn to protect, a vow he'd renewed double after Merle's death; Carol, whom he'd failed more times than he could count already and yet she'd never held any of that against him, always working to convince him he was a good man, a man of honor. _His Carol._  

The dark part of Daryl hoped Martinez didn't talk.

The rest of Daryl couldn't help but think about how pissed Carol was going to be about this when he saw her.

Martinez sighed and closed his eyes.

"The gas station," he sighed. "The one on the road off Route 34? That's the only other place we've been so far."

Daryl's eyebrows knotted together as he glanced at Rick; that was not the answer either of them had been expecting. The gas station was the farthest of their bolt holes from the prison.

"Why did you start there?" Rick asked.

"Screw you," Martinez snapped. "Just kill me already."

Something inside of Daryl snapped and his fist drove forward, embedding itself with a crunch into Martinez's ribcage. Martinez howled with pain, sweat pouring down his face. 

"Fuck, man! We followed some people there, all right? Shit!"

"What people?" Maggie asked hurriedly, striding forward from her watch at the window with her gun still drawn. "What people?!"

"Couldn't tell," Martinez gasped. Each breath was coming out as a rasping wheeze; Daryl figured his punch to the ribs had broken some more bones. _Waste not, want not._  "Saw maybe 3 people? One of them was a kid, for sure."  _Carl._ "They went out the back gate and made it through the walkers we'd herded in the trees somehow. They were the only ones who went out back to make it through." 

"What else can you tell us?" Michonne's voice was calm and steady. Daryl gave an internal smirk.  _Woman really does have her shit together._

Martinez sniffed and glared at them balefully with watery eyes. "One of them had a big bag they were carrying. Might have been a woman, but it was too dark to tell for sure."

Daryl's chest constricted and his heart leapt into his throat.  _Carol._  He jumped to his feet, his eyes wide as he and Rick stared at each other in shock.  _The fuckin' gas station._  The last place any of them had thought likely for anyone to run to.  _An' we were gonna head to the fuckin' pharmacy._ The realization of just how close Daryl had come to going the wrong way made him want to vomit. Rick jerked his head at them and moved over to the window, Maggie, Daryl and Michonne huddling around him.

"There could still be people at the pharmacy," Michonne said carefully. Daryl and Maggie were already shaking their heads.

"No," Daryl said. "I have to find Carol first."

"How the hell did they make it through all of those walkers?" Maggie whispered. "That's just..." Maggie shook her head again, something like awe across her face.

"Prob'ly didn't have a choice, with that twister and all." Daryl shuddered; he didn't even want to  _think_  about what that must have been like. 

"The kid he mentioned..." Rick said slowly. 

Daryl nodded. "Prob'ly Carl. Ain't anybody else it could really be."

Rick released a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Michonne put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"The third person could be anybody," she said. "Glenn, Beth-" 

"I doubt it was Hershel," Rick said with an apologetic look at Maggie. Maggie just nodded. 

"The crutches would have been obvious," she said softly. "Either way, I agree with Daryl. It's likely that kid is Carl, and the woman with the bag has to be Carol. I think... I think the other person might be Glenn. I don't see Beth leaving like that without Daddy or Judith, and he didn't mention a baby with them..." 

 _Still so many missin'._  Daryl sheathed his knife and jerked his chin at Martinez. "End him an' let's get the fuck out of here."

"Dibs," Michonne grinned as she hefted her sword. Daryl turned and strode over to pick up the pack of supplies Michonne had organized for him. He slid the bag across one shoulder and slung his crossbow across the other. He heard the telltale swish of Michonne's sword gliding through the air; with a wet slurping noise, Martinez's severed head fell to the ground. She raised her blade again, ready to drive the point through Martinez's skull, when Rick shook his head at her. 

"Leave it," he said. There was a crash of thunder outside, rain suddenly falling in heavy sheets.  _Damn._  Daryl raised an eyebrow at his friend. Rick didn't notice it as he shouldered his own pack and strode outside. Daryl just shrugged and followed him out, the girls on his heels. 

"Gonna be a bitch to track in this mess," Daryl muttered. "Need to hurry before th' rain washes th' trail away."

"Check the cars," Rick said shortly, indicating the handful of cars scattered haphazardly in the truck stop parking lot. "See if any have keys."

A brief search found Maggie victorious, holding the keys to an old, battered Chevy Suburban. She jumped into the drivers seat and turned the key. 

"Tank is half full," she cried. 

"That won't get us far in a Suburban," Michonne said wryly.

"Where's Rick?" Daryl asked, suddenly realizing the other man was missing. The three of them looked around frantically for a moment before Michonne pointed with her sword; Rick was coming around the side of the building, two large gas cans in his grip. Daryl opened the back of the Suburban as Rick reached the car, heaving the gas cans inside.

"Told Glenn to hide a couple of these here when we were checking out the place," Rick said ruefully. "Just in case."

"Least that's somethin' in our favor today," Daryl said. They slammed the back door down and jumped into the car.

"You know the way," Michonne asked from the front passenger seat. Maggie nodded.

"I was the one who picked out the gas station," she said. 

"Floor it," Daryl urged. Maggie looked at him in the rearview mirror and with a wink, shoved the gas pedal to the floor; with a heaving lurch, the car pulled out onto the road.

 _Hang in there, baby. **Baby?**_ He'd never in his life called Carol, or anyone else for that matter, baby.  _Baby._  He rolled the word around in his head for a moment and smirked at the rain pelting the car windows outside. It suited her and Daryl knew he'd be calling her baby from that point on.

_We're comin', baby. Stay safe._

* * *

Carol opened her eyes and moaned, stretching her arms up and rolling her head from side to side; her spine crackled with the movements, stiff from being still for so long. The light in the room was dimmer than before. Carol raised her eyes to the light bulb swinging gently above Carl's body on the table. It was glowing with an orange-ish light; the bulb dying slowly. She knew it would go out soon. She yawned, her throat cottony from sleep.

"How long was I out?" she whispered.

"Couple hours," Glenn replied. He was still perched on top of the cabinet, legs folded Indian-style, fingers traipsing light patterns over his rifle. Carol took a long swig of water from her water bottle, sucking down the last of the lukewarm water. She noticed another water bottle balanced on one of the shelves, rainwater dripping into the open top. Glenn followed her gaze and grinned.

"Not the cleanest thing, I know," he smiled sadly, "but I figured it was better than nothing."

Carol nodded and slowly heaved herself to her feet. She gingerly rotated her arm; it ached fiercely, her upper arm where she'd been shot felt swollen and tender. A peek under the bandage showed her the skin was an angry-looking red.  _I probably have an infection. Balls._  She sighed and dropped her arm. _First things first._  She tiptoed over to Carl and placed a slim hand on his forehead. She held it there for a moment, then smiled.

"No fever," she whispered over to Glenn. 

"That's something," Glenn said as he slid off the cabinet. He took the water bottle from the shelf, now full of rainwater, replacing it with her own empty bottle. Carol slid her fingers down to Carl's wrist, silently checking his pulse.

"Pulse is steady," she continued. "He seems like he is breathing ok." 

"Maybe it worked," Glenn said softly. Carol shrugged.

"It's still early," she said. "Even if he doesn't get the fever, there are still a hundred other things that could go wrong. Blood clots, infection-"

"Knock that off," Glenn said. "You've done everything you can for Carl. Don't start thinking about the worst case scenario."

"I'm a worrier," Carol smiled sadly. "It's what I do."

"I blame Ed for that," Glenn said.

Carol huffed a quiet laugh. "Me too." She and Glenn smiled at each other for a moment, enjoying the quiet.  _The quiet_...

"The walkers?" Carol looked around at the walls of the shed; nothing was beating down from the outside. 

"There is a loose board in the roof. I was able to lift it and poke my head out to check outside for a minute. They're still out there, but they're just wandering around the property. I think the storm confused them; maybe washed away the scent of our blood a bit."

"That's a point for us," Carol said.  _For now._  She looked back at Carl, her shoulders sinking. "We'd never manage running right now, not with Carl like this." Glenn shook his head.

"I agree," he said. "I don't even think we'd even make it to the farm house right now."

"How many bullets do we have left?"

"Less than half a box," Glenn sighed. "I checked it while you were asleep. I'm out of rounds for the rifle. Your Browning and Carl's Beretta take the same ammo, so we at least have the two pistols for us, but that's it." She noticed that Carl's gun was now hooked in Glenn's belt. Carol nodded.

"So... I guess we just wait," she said.

"I guess so," Glenn replied. 

Carol grabbed her bag and jumped on top of the cabinet, leaning her back against the door of the shed. She pulled out Daryl's poncho and draped it across her lap; pulling her knife from her belt, she started to cut another long strip of fabric from the bottom of the poncho. 

"Figure I can tie this to the door outside," she said. "Leave a clue for Daryl if we leave before he gets here."

" _Carol_ ," Glenn sighed, his voice suddenly full of sorrow. He was looking at her with eyes red rimmed and huge in his pale face. "Do you really think Daryl and the others are actually going to find us?"

Carol looked back at her friend, her hands stilling in their work.

"Yes," she said simply. "I know he's alive and I know he's out there, looking for us."

"But Carol-" 

"No," she interrupted, her voice gentle. "I know it, Glenn. I don't wish for it, I don't hope it, I don't believe it. I  _know_  it." 

Glenn's chin trembled and Carol let the fabric fall from her hands, her knife dropping with a clatter to the cabinet top as she held out her arms for Glenn. With a sob, Glenn climbed onto the cabinet and settled next to Carol, his head falling onto her shoulder as her arms wrapped around him. 

"I'm so damn scared," Glenn whispered. 

"I know, sweetie." Carol soothed him quietly and she rocked them gently back and forth. 

" _No_ , Carol," Glenn said. "I'm so scared and so tired. I'm so worried about Maggie. I'm worried about Carl and there are people chasing us and walkers outside and I'm scared I'm never going to see Maggie again and you're so  _calm_ , Carol. How are you so damn calm?"

"Oh, Glenn," Carol sighed. She leaned her head against Glenn's, the hair on top of this head brushing her cheek. "I'm terrified." She sniffled, tears starting to fall down her own face. "I'm fucking  _terrified_."

They held each other as family, taking comfort from each other and allowing their tears to fall as the light above them slowly dimmed, lower and lower, before fading away into darkness as the light bulb finally burned out with a soft hiss.

* * *

"They were here," Daryl said as he knelt onto the muddy ground, shining his flashlight on the leaf-strewn mud. "Tracks are faint, but they're there." He knelt by a low bush, just inside the line of trees surrounding what remained of the gas station. Rick, Maggie and Michonne stood sentry around him, weapons drawn, as he worked. It was still raining, not in gushing sheets anymore but still steady. _Work faster, Dixon, before these tracks are gone._

Daryl's heart was thrumming like a hummingbird's wings in his chest. His body was practically vibrating with anxiety, the muscles under his skin almost singing the way they always did when he knew he was on the right path for whatever he was tracking. He reached out with a calloused hand and laid his palm on the ground. 

"Looks like they were laying under this bush here," he continued. "Hidin'. Prob'ly watched th' whole place go up in smoke from here," he said, indicating the pile of rubble with a shrug of his shoulder. "Then they..." Daryl trailed off as he followed the tracks back into the clearing. He stood silent for a moment; he could see that the three of them had stood here talking for a while.

"Carol for sure," he said with quiet joy. "Know her footprints. Carl too."

"The third one?" Michonne asked quietly. Daryl pondered the third set of footprints for a moment.

"Too large an' too heavy for a female," he said slowly. "Has to be Glenn. Th' only person who makes sense."  _Now that right there is a weird trio. Carol, Glenn an' Carl freaking Grimes. Wonder if Glenn has tried to gut Carl yet._  Maggie sobbed, relief filling her face. Rick put his arm around her and pulled her into his chest, a similar look gracing his own features.

Daryl turned, following the faint trail as the rain splashed across his face.

"This way," he said urgently. They crossed quickly to the road. "They went north from here."

"Michonne, with Daryl," Rick ordered. "Maggie and I will check here to see if any supplies can be salvaged."

"Follow us in th' car when you're done," Daryl said. "Stick to th' main road. Meet up in 2 miles, or sooner if th' trail veers off th' road."

Daryl set off as a jog, not bothering to check if Michonne was behind him. He was a bloodhound on the scent, all thoughts of exhaustion fleeing him as he followed the trail.

* * *

"Still no fever," Carol said as she checked Carl again by the light of the tiny flashlight she held. "He's starting to get really cold though."  _All the rain._

"He's so pale," Glenn said as he paced by the door. 

"I know," Carol replied. "He needs blood." She didn't add anymore to that statement; both she and Glenn knew that attempting a blood transfusion was impossible.

"Are you sure about this?" Glenn asked for the hundredth time as he paced. They'd cooked up the plan in the last hour. Both of them thought it was crazy, but the shed had grown smaller and smaller with each passing hour in the dark. Cabin fever was setting in quick, but more than that, Carol knew they needed to see what the situation was outside and see if the farm house was a possibility.

"Yes," she sighed. "I'm just going to poke my head out the roof and see how many walkers are outside. Then we'll work on getting to the house." 

"I'm fine with you looking outside," Glenn muttered. "Its the rest of this cockamaime plan that worries me."

"Did you really just use the word 'cockamaime'," Carol giggled. Glenn paused in his pacing and grinned.  

"I think I'm spending too much time with Hershel."

 "I like the bonding time with your future father-in-law, but if you start telling me stories about how you walked to school in six feet of snow, uphill, both ways, I'm going to hit you." Laughter bubbled up from Carol's chest, easing the tension in her aching muscles for a moment. Glenn echoed her laughter, his face easing into a smile she hadn't seen him wear in a long time. 

"You could probably tell those stories yourself." Glenn was suddenly blinding by the glare from the tiny flashlight Carol was shining directly into his eyes.

"I'm not  _that_  old," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "I'm only forty-two. No..." she trailed off for a moment, thinking how much time had passed. "I might be forty-three by now."

"Pretty hip for an old bag." 

"Oh boy. Try to get movie money out of me this week, kiddo," Carol said in her best mother voice. 

"Yeah." Glenn laughed harder, clutching his stomach. Carol laughed with him, both of them bending over trying to catch their breath. It felt so good to laugh for a moment that Carol didn't care how crazy they both must have looked or what they were in the midst of. She was startled back to reality with a sharp slap of a walker's hand banging on the wall outside. Carol and Glenn both quieted instantly, Glenn's hand clamped over his mouth.

"The noise must have attracted some attention," Carol said ruefully.

"So much for the plan," Glenn whispered back.

"For now." She and Glenn looked at each other with a smile before she clicked off the flashlight, settling back into the dark.

* * *

"They were here," Daryl said, snatching at the strip of fabric wrapped around a column of the overhang. They'd stumbled onto a picnic area after taking several miles at a near dead sprint. Michonne ran back to the road to flag down Rick and Maggie as Daryl unwound the familiar piece of cloth. _That's my girl._

They were making good time, having the car at their disposal. For the most part, Carol, Carl and Glenn had followed the road, making it easy for Daryl to track them in the car. Daryl scanned the area as the car pulled up to the picnic area. Rick left the car running and jumped out of the driver's seat, hurrying over to Daryl.

"Hows it looking?"

Daryl thrust the fabric at him in response. "She cut this from my poncho. Left us a sure sign they were here."

Rick smiled, nodding at Daryl. "That's good. We're on the right track, then."

"You doubted me?" Daryl asked with a grin.

"Not for a second," Rick said instantly, holding his hands up defensively. Daryl just chuckled and followed the trail of footprints. 

"These are fresher," he said. "One of 'em went off alone, th' others followed later. Off that way." He pointed towards the trees with one arm.

"Please don't tell me the wanderer is Carl," Rick moaned. Daryl just looked at him. Rick sighed. "Of course it was Carl. I don't even know why I asked."

"Me neither." Daryl hitched his crossbow up higher on his shoulder and wiped the back of his rain drenched neck with his hand. "We hoof it from here. Looks like they're goin' cross country now." Daryl whistled and gestured for the girls to come out of the car. Maggie leapt out with a map in her hands. 

"The road comes around here," Rick said as he took the map from her and found where they were. "You go on foot, we meet up here in 3 miles?" 

"Works for me," Daryl said as Michonne walked up to them. "Take Michonne with me, have her flag y'all down if the trail changes before then. Ready to run?"

Michonne grinned back at him. "Let's go, redneck."

They set off at a run, Daryl taking the lead as he followed the trail of footprints into the woods while Maggie and Rick sprinted back to the car. He could _feel_ Carol, could almost smell her as he tracked her. He was getting closer; he knew it. 

Dary stumbled to a sudden halt, Michonne crashing into him and almost falling to the ground. Daryl barely noticed, leaning down to pick a few chinaberries off the ground. 

"Really hope no one was stupid enough to eat these," he muttered. He knew Carol knew better, but he wasn't sure about the other two.

"They poisonous?" Michonne asked.

"Yup. We see any vomit, we know someone's a dumbass."

"Fun."

* * *

Another three hours had passed. Carl still didn't have a fever, but the chill seeping into his body was growing steadily worse. Carol added hypothermia to her list of worries for Carl. She and Glenn had piled all of the fabric from the cabinet onto Carl in an effort to keep him warm. Glenn had mentioned skin to skin contact, but Carol wanted to check outside first. Only a couple of walkers had come upon the shed in the past hours; their laughing fit not enough to draw back the entire herd.  _Thank goodness._  There hadn't been any banging noises for the past hours and Carol was ready to go with their original plan to check outside.

Carol stood on her tiptoes on one of the shelves in the shed and slowly raised the loose board of the roof up. Keeping a firm hand on the board, she slowly stepped up to the next shelf, bringing herself through the opening Her head and shoulders just fit through the hole. She took a deep breath, the rain scented air incredibly fresh after the stale, blood drenched stench of the shed. The rain was just a drizzle now, the storm winds lessened to a mere breeze. The clouds were starting to part and she caught glimpses of the night sky, moonlight peeking through the clouds and casting beams of pale light around her. She took a good, long look at the stretch of land between the shed and the farm house, making sure to look over her shoulder at the wheat fields behind her. She could see figures moving at the far end of the field.  _How the hell did we miss them the first time?_  The space between the shed and the farm house was clear, only the bodies of the walkers they'd taken down in their mad dash to the shed dotting the land. Carol could see shapes moving around the edges of the property, and a few inside the house itself, though nothing like the mess they'd stumbled into before. Sucking in another deep breath of clean air, she dropped back down into the shed, careful to set the board gently back in place with a creaking whisper instead of letting it fall, not wanting to attract any more attention.

"I can get to the house," Carol said softly.

"Oh HELL no," Glenn said. "If anyone is going, I am. I'm faster."

"You're also more tired," she argued. "I've slept. You haven't. There are walkers outside, but it looks like the herd is moving off the property. There are still a few in the house, but I can take care of them with my knife."

"Carol, this is madness." Glenn grasped her good arm and gestured to Carl with his free hand. "Carl needs you here." 

"Carl needs food other than Twinkies, and medicine, and clean clothes and blankets and Rick. All things we  _do not have_  here," Carol said. "Maybe the house doesn't have much, but it has to be better protection than this place. The walls won't hold forever, and if the wind changes and the walkers in the field smell the blood in here, we're dead. Even if the house isn't better protection, I know what supplies to look for to bring back here. I'm awake, I'm rested. It has to be me."

Glenn shook his head at her. Carol growled in frustration.

"OK, Rhee, if you can tell me how many fingers I'm holding up, you can go." Carol held up two fingers in front of Glenn's face. He followed her fingers with unfocused eyes and Carol grinned in triumph. Glenn groaned and dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with weary fingers.

"Daryl is going to  _kill me_  for letting you do this."

"I know," she patted his back soothingly. "I'll totally back you up before he shoots you with his crossbow."

"He still shoots me," Glenn muttered as Carol loaded her pistol. She grinned.

"Yeah, he does, but not for this." 

"Then why is he shooting me?"

"Oh, I'm going to ask him to for you calling me old," Carol grinned. Glenn rolled his eyes dramatically as she checked to make sure her knife was in her belt. She held several strips of fabric cut from Daryl's poncho in her hand, one for the shed door and one for the house itself.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope!" Carol smiled again before turning serious. "Remember, watch me from the roof. If I'm not back in an hour, I'm not coming back."

"Carol," Glenn said softly. He grabbed her in a sudden, fierce hug. She held him tightly, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. "Be careful," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"It'll be ok," she said. "I've got this." She pulled back and held Glenn's shoulders, giving him an encouraging smile. He nodded back to her, letting his arms drop to his sides. Carol climbed back onto the shelf, raising the loose board and slowly climbing onto the roof. She could hear Glenn climbing after her, his own head peeking out and she knelt by the edge, making sure there weren't any walkers directly below her.

 "Stay safe," he said suddenly. Carol whipped her head around, her eyes wide. Glenn didn't know,  _couldn't_  have known, Daryl's words to her every time they parted. Her soul warmed, her heart suddenly beating faster in her chest and she smiled at Glenn. So much later, Glenn would tell her it was the first time he'd realized she was beautiful.

"Nine lives," she said gently before dropping gracefully from the roof onto the ground below. She crept around the shed, quickly tying one piece of fabric around the handle of the shed door, leaving long, colorful strips dangling in the slight breeze. The job done, she hunkered down against the door for a long moment, taking stock of the area and pondering the madness of what she was about to do.

 _Thinkin' ain't doin', baby. Jus' go._  Daryl's voice again. She grinned in the darkness and set off, sticking to the shadows as she sprinted for the house.

* * *

A loud honk pierced the air, dragging Daryl from his thoughts as he tracked. It came again, longer this time. Daryl glanced at Michonne and they were off, changing their course from Carol's trail to the road. They quickly stumbled onto Suburban; Maggie was leaning out of the passenger window with the map in her hands.

"There's a farm here," she said quickly as Daryl and Michonne reached them, panting for breath.

"So?" Michonne gasped. 

"We checked out this farm before," Maggie said urgently. "Me, Glenn and Daryl. You remember?"

Daryl nodded his head as he slugged a long drink from his water bottle. "Didn' find much, I recall." 

"Yeah, but if they're this way, maybe they stopped here for shelter." 

Daryl took a few deep breaths, thinking it over. It was entirely possible, especially if they were tired, that they had taken shelter in the old farm. There wasn't much else around this way for miles. Daryl nodded at Rick, opening the back door and jumping into the car. He slid over to the far side so Michonne could clamber inside. Maggie was pointing out the directions to Rick; the fork in the road that lead to the farm was less than a quarter mile up ahead, if Daryl remembered correctly. He leaned his head back against the seat, still gulping for breath. He knew, deep in his bones, that they were getting close. They'd taken the last several miles at a dead run, Daryl's heart beating louder with every step until all he could hear was the beating from inside of him, each bump of his heart sounding like her name.

_So close. Jus' a little longer now, baby._

* * *

Carol finished tying off the long strip of fabric around the handle of the front door, turning to see Glenn waving at her from the roof. She waved back, indicating she saw him and was still in one piece. She waited for Glenn to drop back down into the shed before drawing her knife from her belt. She turned to the door and slowly pulled it open, the squeal of rusty hinges sharp in the calm night.  _Like something from a bad horror movie._  Carol winced, hoping the noise wasn't as loud as she thought as she tiptoed in the house.

The front room was a mess, shattered glass, paper, dirt and leaves covering the floor as tattered curtains wafted in the night breeze. The coffee table was tilted onto it's side, ripped and torn magazines scattered beneath it. There was a beat up armchair with the stuffing poking out from the fabric, a couch with no cushions and an old, hand carved rocking chair. Broken picture frames and knicknacks were strewn across the floor. _This house did not go gently._ She moved along as quietly as she could, making her way towards the dark staircase. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up, every inch of her on alert as she crept through the old house. She flicked the light switch at the foot of the stairs; nothing. She glanced up and noticed the light bulbs were black, having burned out long ago.  _Wonder if the house has power like the shed did._

The staircase twisted through the house; a small landing halfway up indicated the turn. She couldn't see past the corner at the landing. She crawled up the stairs, knife ready. The fourth stair creaked loudly under her foot and she made a mental note to avoid that step on the way down. She froze on the landing as she heard a rustling in the dark up ahead; taking a deep breath, she turned the corner with her knife raised, driving it deep into the skull of the walker as it lunged at her, driving her back down the stairs.

* * *

Rick turned the headlights off and put the car in neutral, letting gravity do most of the work as it slid down the hill to the back of the barn. They had glimpsed walkers in the distance as they drove in and Daryl loaded his crossbow as Maggie checked the rounds in her gun. The car rolled to a stop and Rick shifted the gears to park just behind the barn. The four of them slowly and quietly climbed out of the car, Michonne drawing her sword as soon as her feet hit the ground. Maggie was peeking around the side of the barn as Rick loaded the last of his bullets into his gun.

"Guys," Maggie hissed. "Come look!"

Daryl, Rick and Michonne crowded around Maggie and looked around the barn. Daryl could see the large field of wheat glowing in the pale moonlight drifting through the clouds.  _So glad the rain finally fuckin' stopped._ He could see dark figures stumbling around in the field; he tapped Rick on the shoulder and pointed them out with his finger. Rick simply nodded and pointed with his own at the bodies strewn about on large, grassy lawn in front of the house itself. Daryl nodded back.

"No telling how long ago those bodies fell," Michonne whispered. "Not from here."

"Still, it's something," Maggie whispered back.

Daryl leaned against the barn wall and took inventory of the land. There was a small tool shed right at the edge of the wheat field, the barn, the house itself. Beyond the house was a slightly smaller structure, probably a garage. Daryl nudged Rick and pointed to the house, wanting to check that first. Rick nodded and clicked the safety off his gun.

"Stay in formation," he whispered firmly. "No guns unless we have to. I don't want to draw those walkers in from the field. Can't tell how many are out there, so let's not chance it."

Michonne and Maggie nodded as Rick indicated that Daryl should take the lead. Daryl raised his crossbow and set off towards the house, creeping silently across the moonlight ground. Halfway to the house, his heart stopped and he froze, his eyes wide. There, whisping back and forth in the light breeze, was a familiar stretch of fabric tied to the front door. 

* * *

 _ **Thunk!**_  The walker crumpled to the ground at Carol's feet as she quickly checked her surrounding, making sure there weren't any others in the room. It was the fifth walker since she started climbing the stairs and her injured arm was screaming from overuse but it looked like she'd cleared the hallway. She slid over to the nearest door and slowly opened it, keeping her knife ready as she peered into the room. It looked like a guest room. Carol was about to step inside when the screech of the front door opening reached her ears.

_Shit._

* * *

Daryl practically flew to the front door of the house, his heart beating in his ears as nimble fingers untied the piece of his poncho from the doorknob. He shoved the cloth into his pocket; glancing quickly over his shoulder to make sure the others were ready, he stretched out his hand and slowly opened the door, the hinges squealing. Damn, that's loud. He glanced again over his shoulder; with a nod from Rick, Daryl stepped inside the house.

* * *

 _Shit shit shit._  Carol could hear the squeak and groan of the floorboards downstairs as something,  _or somethings_ , trod across them. The last thing she wanted was to get stuck upstairs with a herd downstairs. Carol shivered suddenly, her heart beating faster as the anxiety grew inside of her. Did she continue to sweep the house upstairs, or go downstairs to take care of whatever was down there?  _What would Daryl do?_  She smiled grimly;  _Daryl would go deal with this shit._

With a quiet sigh, Carol silently crept back to the top of the stairs and slowly began to make her way down.

* * *

The living room looked clear enough, although the house itself was trashed. Daryl gestured with his arm as he moved forward, signaling to the others to check the rest of the downstairs. He made his way to the stairs, stepping over the body sprawled at the bottom of the staircase. He winced when the fourth step creaked loudly under his foot. Damn. He stopped for a second and could just hear the whisper of something breathing just around the corner of the landing.

* * *

Carol froze when she heard the creak of the fourth step; whatever was down there was making it was up the staircase. She was just around the corner of the landing and could see a blurry shadow moving along the floor. Carol stood up straight, counting to three before lunging around the corner at the thing on the other side.

* * *

Daryl checked his crossbow, turning slightly to the front room where Maggie was, he held a finger to his lips and pointed to the landing. She knew what he meant, and nodded her head in reply, raising her gun to give him some cover. Daryl was at the landing now; he braced himself against the wall and counted to three before spinning and aiming his crossbow at the thing around the corner.

* * *

Carol froze with her knife in the air, her heart caught in her throat, staring past the tip of an arrow pointed at her head to the familiar blue eyes beyond. She heard a gasp from the living room, but paid it no mind, unable to tear her eyes away for fear he'd disappear.  _Daryl._

* * *

Daryl froze with his finger on the trigger of the crossbow, staring in shock past the raised knife to the clear blue eyes he'd been longing to see. He heard Maggie gasp from the living room but didn't pay her any attention. Daryl lowered his crossbow slowly, terrified that she was a figment of his imagination. _Carol._

* * *

_Maggie could see Michonne in the kitchen; catching her eye, she mouthed 'get Rick' and pointed to the staircase. The other woman nodded and ran for the back door as Maggie turned her attention back to the staircase, a smile growing on her face as she watched Daryl and Carol stare at each other. Carol was a wreck, pale and smothered with dirt and dried blood, dark circles lining her eyes. Daryl was staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, making Maggie's heart sing for her friends. 'Freaking **FINALLY** ' she shouted to herself as Daryl slowly raised a trembling hand to lightly brush his fingers across Carol's cheek._

_"You're real," he whispered._

_"So are you," Carol whispered back._

_Maggie thought she might cry, smiling so hard her face hurt as, with a cry, Carol dropped her knife and collapsed into Daryl, wrapping her arms around his neck, one hand grasping the collar of his shirt as the other wound itself into his hair. The crossbow fell to the ground with a clatter as Daryl's arms wrapped around Carol and lifted her up off the floor, hugging her tight to him as he buried his face in her neck. It was Daryl's words, murmured into Carol's neck and mingling with her quiet cries, that finally urged a tear down Maggie's own face._

_"Hi, baby."_


	9. Telling Tales

**Chapter 9: Telling Tales  
**

It wasn't a fairy tale. For one, he was so tired he was about to fall over. She smelled like blood, the iron tang of it filling his nostrils and making his head spin. Her skin was rough and cold against his as he buried his face against her neck, tasting the salt and grit of sweat, dirt and rain covering her from head to toe. Her ripped, grungy clothes snagged on his callused fingers, making them itch. His body was aching, the past days of being on the hunt wearing him down to where even her small frame felt heavy in his arms. He simply pulled her tighter against him, the tips of her boots skimming across his feet as he lifted her slightly. Her pulse thrummed under his lips like the wings of a hummingbird, fast and furious and alive. It wasn't a fairy tale...but this was exactly what he'd been looking for. The whole world was a nightmare, and he'd never been born for fairy tales anyway. What he wanted was right here, in front of him.  _Carol._  Daryl never wanted to move.

The whispers drifting in from the living room reminded him that he and Carol had an audience. Carol had obviously had the same thought; he felt her tense before slowly pulling away from him. Daryl lifted his head and grasped her chin lightly in his fingers, tilting her face up slightly to meet her eyes. They burned, clear and bright through the layer of filth covering her face, seeing right through him as they always had. He could see the dozens of things she wasn't saying out loud: her exhaustion, her fear, the untold horrors of the last several days, how hard she'd pushed herself, her joy at finding them and being found. He wanted to fall to his knees before her, bow before the quiet courage that poured out of her and let the onslaught of emotion overwhelm him, let her deem him worthy, a man of honor, with a single touch of a graceful fingertip.  _Carol. Carol Carol Carol._

"Carol." Rick, his voice reverent with surprise and awe, broke their spell and they finally looked away from each other to see Rick, Maggie and Michonne standing near the overturned table in the living room, watching the reunion on the staircase. Carol pulled herself out of his arms; without a thought, Daryl's hand reached out and snatched at her arm, desperate to keep some form of contact with her for fear she might disappear in front of him. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, silently reassuring him she wasn't going anywhere.

"Hey guys," she said softly. She pulled lightly on his arm and Daryl bent over swiftly to grab his crossbow as she started to lead him down the stairs. Maggie ran up to Carol and latched on like a starfish, almost knocking them all down with the strength of her hug as she started babbling excitedly.

"Carol, oh my god I am so happy to see you. Is Glenn with you? Have you see my dad? What about Beth? What the hell happened?! We've been so worried. Please tell me Glenn is with you-"

"Where's Carl? Is Carl with you? Is he ok? What about Judith? Carol, do you have Judith with you?" Rick's voice overlapped with Maggie's, both of them suddenly frantic as they bombarded Carol with questions. Daryl twitched, all nervous energy from the last bits of adrenaline still working its way through his system. Suddenly, selfishly, he wished Rick, Maggie and Michonne weren't here. He wanted nothing more than to pull Carol back into his arms and breathe her in. He needed to run his fingers over her and check every inch of her for injuries, take his time and relish the fact that she was alive and he'd  _found_  her. They weren't alone, though, and everything was moving too fast for him to follow. Before he could put voice to his thoughts, Michonne raised her voice.

"GUYS!" Rick and Maggie stopped and turned, instantly searching for walkers. "Give her a second," Michonne continued. She jerked her chin in Carol's direction and gave her a small smirk; Daryl saw Carol wink back at her. Her thumb brushed the sensitive skin of his wrist, just once, as she took a deep breath and turned first to Maggie.

"The Governor attacked-"

"We saw the prison," Rick said swiftly. Carol nodded.

"So you know some of it then," she said. "I have no idea where Hershel and Beth are. We lost them during the attack. The fight came right as a tornado was bearing down on us."

"Yeah, we had a house drop on us," Daryl said wryly. Carol turned to him with a gasp, eyes wide, but before he could elaborate Maggie interrupted.

"Glenn's ok?" Maggie asked urgently.

"Glenn's fine," Carol said. "He and Carl are in the shed, over on the edge of the wheat field. There was -  _Rick,_ _ **wait**_!" Carol wrenched herself from Daryl's grasp with a cry, leaping after Rick and leaving Daryl feeling rather lost. He started to move just as Rick threw open the front door, Carol reaching out and just barely missing him, fingers grazing the back of Rick's shirt as he ran out the door and down the steps, heedless of Carol and the others on his heels in his dash to reach his son. Daryl rushed after her, not bothering to examine the instinct demanding to keep her in his sights, keep her close. He barely noticed that Maggie and Michonne were just behind him.

Daryl's vision started to blur slightly as Carol caught up to Rick, throwing herself in front of him and blocking his path as she gripped the lawman by the shoulders and forced him to stop. Daryl hung back, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as a dark, fearful expression crossed Carol's face; it wasn't  _right_ , seeing her wear that look and he found himself desperately wanting to do anything he could to make it disappear.  _Pansy._ He ignored the voice in his head, using the dying bits of energy left in him to focus on Carol's face. Even covered in mud and bit of walker, she was lovely. _Fuckin' hell, you've lost it._ She was talking to Rick in low tones; Daryl could just make out the timbre of her voice over the evening breeze but not the actual words she was saying. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, a sinking feeling in his chest telling him that whatever Carol was saying to Rick, it wasn't good. Daryl watched her fingers sink into the fabric of Rick's shirt, twisting the blue fabric as she held him tighter and tighter while she spoke. He caught himself gnawing on the skin of his thumb, an old habit he'd tried and failed a hundred times to break, as he watched Carol uncertainly. He could see she was trying to stay calm, be reassuring, but Rick's face had gone white.  _Shit._ With an agonized cry, Rick wrenched himself from Carol's grasp and fled towards the dilapidated shed.

Carol stood still, her head slightly bowed and staring at the place Rick had just vacated. Daryl found himself moving again, his feet acting on their own to take him to her. He came to rest in front of her, the tips of his boots brushing against her feet, the tip of her stockinged toe just starting to peek out through the front of one worn, tattered sneaker. He saw the figure of Maggie running past them, following Rick to the shed.

"Carol", he rumbled softly. He reached out and gently threaded his fingers through hers, linking them together. Carol's eyes briefly flicked up to meet his; he was struck by the amount of grief he saw in them.  _Oh Jesus, Carl's dead._  Her eyes ticked over to his left. He felt rather than heard Michonne at his shoulder, silent and watchful.

"There are walkers in the wheat field," Carol said.

"I'll take care of it," Michonne said quietly. Daryl heard the metallic swish of a katana being unsheathed and watched from the corner of his eye as Michonne stepped forward to briefly lay a hand on Carol's shoulder, squeezing gently before striding out of his line of sight. He should care about the walkers; yet another threat in this unceasing nightmare. He just couldn't bring himself to care, more worried about the woman in front of him than the creatures in the field.

" _Carol_ ," he said again. He tugged lightly on Carol's fingers, curling them into his palm. He'd never touched anyone so much in his life, including Carol, but he didn't care enough to stop. Not with her, not anymore. Her eyes ticked up to his, filled with anguish and something he couldn't name. "Is Carl alive?" he asked her quietly.

Carol closed her eyes and nodded. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. Rick was on edge, had been on edge for months and they all knew that losing his son would shatter him completely.

"For now," she whispered. "Carl was bit..." she trailed off, releasing a heavy sigh that seemed to weigh her down.

 _Carl's alive, but bit... oh Christ._  He knew what must have happened, what Carol had done to keep Carl alive. There was no time to process it further; Daryl could hear muffled shouts filling the air. He raised his head from Carol to see that Rick and Maggie had made the shed. The door was open, swinging slightly in the breeze. Carol was moving, pulling him along with her hand still firmly entwined with his. As they reached the shed, he could just make out the dark figure of Michonne, standing sentinel at the edge of the wheat field. She looked back over her shoulder at them and nodded once. Daryl and Carol reached the opened shed and Daryl froze just outside the door in shock. He really shouldn't have been surprised; hell, he'd held Hershel down while Rick brutally amputated his leg, had seen more blood and death in the last two days alone to scar a man for life. There was something jarring about seeing Carl, who for all the time they'd spent together Daryl still saw as a small boy, lying pale and still on a rickety table in an ocean of his own blood. Rick stood over the table, one hand stretched out, hovering shakily over Carl's prone figure, afraid to push that last inch to touch. Daryl understood all too well what Rick was feeling; to touch Carl, to feel him under his hand meant that this was all horribly real. Daryl tightened his grip on Carol's fingers.

 _This ain't never gonna end._  It was too much; he was choking on the sour air of the shed, black spot dancing in his vision. He leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees as he fought down the urge to empty his stomach then and there. He felt a hand rubbing slow circles on his back.  _Carol. Always takin' care of me._ A wave of self loathing rose up in him, adding its bitterness to the bile in his throat. He should be taking care of  _her_ , of Rick, of all of them. They were out in the open at night, for fuck's sake, with a possible herd just a few yards away hidden in a damn field and here he was trying not to puke like a god damn sissy. He breathed slow and deep, trying to calm himself while catching jumbled bits of the conversation now happening around him.

"...move him, do you think?"

"What the hell..."

"... Need shelter. We can't stay here..."

"...should hold for tonight..."

Something was pulling at him, gently forcing him to move, dragging him outside. The air outside the shed was crisp and clean. Daryl found himself sucking in huge lungfuls of the sweet air, desperate to calm the roiling knots in his stomach.  _Unbe-fuckin'-lievable, dumbass. Get a fuckin' grip._  His usual derisive inner monologue wasn't helping and he stumbled over his own feet, nearly crashing to the ground if not for the firm grip someone had on his arm.  _Pfft. Someone._ He knew very well who had him. He was ashamed that she had to carry him along like this but at the same time found himself relieved. She had him and he was starting to realize she could bear the weight better than he'd thought. Carol wouldn't let him fall.

* * *

Stumbling into the living room, Carol pushed Daryl into the battered sofa, letting her fingers linger on the warm skin of his shoulder.  _He's not flinching._  She thought there had been more touching in the last 15 minutes than there had been in the 2 years they'd known each other. It was almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.

Daryl was still pale and shaking in the grips of his panic attack, heaving deep breaths as he leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. She could hear Rick, Michonne and Glenn moving upstairs, getting the still unconscious Carl settled into one of the bedrooms. Maggie, sniffling, was pulling closed the wooden shutters on the front windows. Carol pulled herself from Daryl and moved to help Maggie seal the windows. Quicker than a rattlesnake, Daryl's hand snapped out and closed almost painfully around her wrist, keeping her in place. Carol jumped, the action automatically bringing back painful memories.  _He's not Ed. He's not Ed._  She kept chanting her mantra over and over as Daryl looked up at her with wild eyes. She found her heart warming despite herself.

"It's ok," she leaned over and whispered softly. "I'm not going anywhere." With her free hand, she reached over and gently stroked the fingers clenched around her wrist; they loosened with each brush of her fingertips. She sighed in relief as the blood started flowing back into her hand. "I'm just going to help Maggie," she continued. Daryl watched her, a fearful expression on his face. Carol just kept lightly stroking his fingers, giving him a minute to read her face. After a long moment, Daryl nodded and slowly removed his grip from her wrist.

Carol sighed and carefully crossed the living room. She could feel Daryl's eyes watching her every move. He did that a lot. Ed had done that too, but she felt none of the malice that Ed's eyes on her used to bring. This was something different, safe and warm. She could feel Daryl's anxiousness this time though, and wondered what had brought on such un-Daryl like behavior.

"Probably won't do a lot of good if a herd comes, but it's something." Maggie was still sniffling, her eyes red. Carol reached out and wrapped her arm tenderly around her friend, pulling her close.

"He was so worried about you," Carol said gently. Maggie closed her eyes and leaned her head on Carol's shoulder. "He was so strong for us. He did everything he could to keep us alive and safe, but all he could think about was finding you."

Maggie sobbed harder, pushing her face into Carol's shoulder. Carol let her other arm come up and pulled Maggie into a hug, gently rocking her back and forth like she used to do with Sophia when she was small.  _Too much for all of us lately._  They were all at their breaking point, pushed to their maximum limits in the past few days. Carol only had to look at Daryl and the others to know their journey here had been just as hard as her own. She could still feel Daryl watching them; a glance over Maggie's shoulder showed Daryl had managed to catch his breath and looked relatively calm. His eyes were dark with something she couldn't name; uncertainty rippling through her as she thought about it.

_Hi, baby._

_He's never called me baby before. Never. I imagined it. That's got to be it. I've been wanting him to say it for so long now I'm hearing it when he speaks. Audible hallucinations. Because_ _ **that**_   _is what I need right now._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of feet on the stairs. Rick, Glenn and Michonne had reappeared and were making their way downstairs. She gestured to Glenn with one hand and he smiled and came to her side. Carol gently pushed the still-sobbing Maggie into Glenn's arms and smiled back at her friend. It made her happy to see Glenn and Maggie reunited. Was it only two days ago she and Glenn had been discussing love on the watchtower?

" _I like that you proposed."_

" _Seriously?"_

" _Seriously! It gives the rest of us hope."_

 _We all need a little hope right now._ She caught Daryl's eyes, still staring at her with that strange look, and smiled again before turning to see Rick watching them wearily. She sighed, her joy short lived in the face of Rick's agony.

"I want to know exactly what the hell happened," Rick said.

"You're gonna want to sit down," Carol said as she crossed back to the sofa, sinking down next to Daryl. She wanted nothing more than to lean against him, let the warmth from his body soak into her and fall into sleep knowing Daryl would keep her safe while she dreamed.  _Wishful thinking._  She had a feeling Daryl had reached his limit for physical contact for the day.  _Hell, probably the year. Maybe. Except you heard him call you 'baby'_... Carol shook her head and focused her attention on Rick.

"So, after the four of you left to go chase the car Maggie saw, Glenn and I were sitting on watch..."

* * *

Daryl was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open as he slowly dragged his aching body up the stairs. The telling from both sides had taken hours. Carol and Glenn had described the blur of the attack, running through the herd, the tornado, the tank coming to the gas station, Carl getting bitten. Carol had skimmed over the details of Carl's haphazard surgery in the shed for Rick's benefit. Given what little he'd seen of the shed, Daryl could fill in the blanks in Carol's story fairly easily. He'd shuddered, thinking about what she must have gone through in that tiny, dark room and hating himself for not finding them sooner.

Maggie and Michonne had carried the tale of their own adventure. He'd added a few details himself but had let the girls carry the conversation, not wanting to give details on the carnage he'd seen at the prison. Several times Carol had come close to crying. He'd seen the shimmer of tears fill her eyes and had wanted to reach out and pull her into him. He found himself frozen instead, uncertain. He'd seen the look come over her face when she was with Maggie and it gnawed at him. Carol had her ghosts, same as him. They'd come a long way, the pair of them. If he was being honest with himself, she was the reason he'd made as much progress as he had. Still, he had a long way to go and was willing to bet his crossbow Carol was the same. It meant they were going to have to  _talk_ , which was bad. About  _ **feelings**_ , which was worse. Daryl was good at neither of those things. For Carol, though, he was willing to walk into hell itself. Any uncertainty he'd had before about making the leap from friends and acknowledging how he felt was gone, dead the second he'd come back to a ruined prison and started hunting for her.

Daryl stumbled into the nearest bedroom, his thoughts still full of Carol. Soft, gentle, strong Carol. He turned in place, quickly looking around the room confused as why Carol wasn't there. He felt like she was  _supposed_  to be there. Daryl shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind for just a little longer.

_She has her own room, dumbass._

Of course she did, because why wouldn't she? No one else knew of his epiphany, of his intentions to declare Carol his and himself hers.

_Fuck that nonsense._

Daryl strode from the room, crossing the hall to the small bedroom where Carl was laid, still asleep.  _Hope its jus' sleep and not worse._  Rick was there, settling down into a chair next to the bed. Carol was leaning over Carl, the back of one palm across his forehead as she measured his pulse with her other hand.

"I think he'll be all right for the night," Carol said.

"I don't know how to thank you," Rick said slowly. Daryl leaned against the door jamb and folded his arms across his chest, watching Carol smile gently at Rick.

"You don't have to," she said. "You know that."

"Still," Rick said.

"I know."

Daryl watched them look at each other for a moment over Carl's prone figure. After a long moment, Rick cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair.

"Where will you be if Carl needs you?"

Carol looked uncertain for a moment, clearly not having figured out her sleeping arrangements. Daryl smirked to himself.  _Might as well, Dixon_.

"Across the hall," Daryl spoke up softly. "First door on th' left."

Carol and Rick both arched eyebrows at him but Daryl said nothing further. He simply leaned on the doorway, his gaze on Carol. Waiting. Carol finished straightening the blankets over Carl. Daryl caught the blush rising beneath the dirt on her cheeks and bit his tongue to keep from grinning. Once she was finished, he pushed himself off the wall and stretched out his hand to her. Carol took it automatically but he swore he saw surprise in her face. Daryl couldn't stop his smirk that time as he gently led her across the hall and back into his room.  _Theirs_ , now. The click of the door shutting behind him sounded incredibly loud to his ears.

"Who's on watch?" Carol asked softly.

"Glenn an' Maggie. Got lots to catch up on, I guess."

Carol nodded. "That's good."

She shuffled her feet awkwardly, not looking him in the looked at the double bed, knowing there was enough room for both of them but not sure they were ready to share yet.

"Take the bed," Daryl said gruffly.

"No, I can't-"

Daryl leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Carol's forehead. He heard her gasp, her fingers tight where they wrapped around his. He gave another lingering kiss to the same spot before tilting his head and resting his forehead on hers, brushing their noses together.

"Take the bed, baby. S'all right. I want ya to."

"You called me baby," she whispered shakily.

"It suits you. D'ya mind it?"

Carol took a couple of shallow breaths. He could almost taste her in the air, they were so close. He wondered what if her lips were as soft as they looked, what she would taste like on his tongue. He was so close to finding out.

"No," she said slowly. "I don't... I mean, I-I like it." Yeah, she was blushing for sure now. He could feel the heat from her face and Daryl let loose a rare smile.

"Good. I do too."

They stayed like that a moment longer, heads together, almost nuzzling each other. Daryl's skin was burning. He wanted her to touch him, drag those fingers over him, down him. He wanted run his own hands across her body, caress every inch, every curve. He wanted to taste her skin, figure out what her sensitive places were. He wanted to know what sounds she'd make and what she'd look like beneath him, over him. A lifetime of holding himself back for a hundred different reasons and now, at the end of the world, he wanted to drown himself in Carol Peletier and never resurface.

_Not tonight. I'm too damn tired for this._

Regretfully, Daryl raised his head and gently pushed Carol towards the bed. He followed, setting his crossbow up against the wall and moving to pull the thick comforter from the bed, making himself a nest on the floor.

"Are you sure?" He met Carol's concerned gaze and smiled.

"Yeah, I'm sure.  _Sleep._ " Daryl watched her slowly stretch out on the bed, sighing with happiness as her body relaxed into the mattress. He laid down on the floor next to the bed, bunching the limp pillow under his head to get as much cushion out of it as possible. Carol's breathing had already gone even, so he thought her asleep. Daryl yawned, too tired to fight off the urge to sleep. He was almost gone when he heard her, soft and quiet in the dark.

"Daryl?"

He cracked open one eye to see her arm dangling off the bed, reaching out for him. Without a second thought, he reached out and once again tangled his fingers with hers, bringing them to his lips to press tiny kisses to each fingertip.

"Go to sleep, baby."

"Mmmkay," he heard Carol sigh. Daryl smiled against her fingers, giving them one last kiss before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	10. Nightingale

**Chapter 10: Nightingale**

Knock knock knock. "Carol."

She moaned, shoving her face further into her pillow.  _Go away. Sleepy._

Knock knock knock. " _Carol._ "

Carol turned her head, slowly blinking bleary eyes open. She could just see the sky through the window above the bed; it was still dark out, which meant she hadn't been asleep for very long. She felt stiff, sore and incredibly gross.

" _You look disgusting."_

" _So do you."_

Carol sighed, taking a moment to miss her friend. Things had changed so much since Lori's death. She wondered how things would be different if Lori had lived, if Carol had been there to perform the C-section she'd been practicing instead of Maggie. Lori was the first real girlfriend she'd had since Rhonda Tally back in high school, before Ed...  _Don't go down this road. Not tonight._  She stretched, hearing her spine pop. The pull of something on her arm brought her up short. Taking a peek off the edge of the bed, she realized Daryl was there, still asleep on the floor. He was on his back, one arm folded behind his head. The other hand was gently clutching her own, his elbow resting on the bed frame so they could keep their hands linked while they slept. Carol's eyes widened as the image sank in, brushing the cobwebs from her mind as she grew more alert.  _This is real._

Knock knock knock. " _Carol!_ "

" _WHAT?!_ " she hissed back as loud as she dared, not wanting to wake Daryl. The door inched open and Maggie's poked her head into the room, her words dying off as she took in the scene before her. Carol glared back, silently daring the younger girl to say a word about the situation. Maggie just bit her lip and grinned at Carol.  _Damn, I'm gonna catch hell for this later._  Carol gestured at Maggie, trying to convey the message of  _either speak or get out_. Maggie just kept grinning, looking pointedly at Daryl's sleeping figure on the floor and back to Carol again.

"I will kill you and make it look like an accident," Carol whispered fiercely. She jumped as she heard a snort of laughter from the floor; Daryl apparently was awake after all.

"I'd pay money t' see somethin' like that," he muttered. Carol rolled her eyes, trying and failing not to smile. Maggie shook her head from the doorway, her smile fading slightly.

"I'm sorry, Carol," she said, "but Rick is asking for you."

Carol sighed and nodded, pulling her hand from Daryl's grasp to stretch her arms over her head as she sat up.

"I'm coming," she said quietly. "How long were we out?"

"Just about 3 hours," Maggie said. "Glenn's asleep now. I'm going to switch watch with Michonne."

"'Kay," she replied. "Thanks."

Maggie smiled and left, leaving the door open behind her. Carol rubbed tiredly at her face.  _Three hours. No rest for the weary._ She heard Daryl shifting around on the floor and carefully swung her legs off the edge of the bed as Daryl sat up.

"Jus' want one day," he mumbled. She knew what he meant. A day of rest, of not having to run, or hunt, no killing walkers or scrounging for food. It would lovely to be able to relax, just for a little while and not have to worry about killing or being killed.

"I need to see what Rick wants," she said. Daryl placed a careful hand on her leg and she froze, staring at his hand as his fingers curled around her knee.

"You need more rest," he said quietly.

"So do you," she replied. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Take the bed while I'm gone."

Daryl shook his head at her. "Yes," she sighed. "I can take the floor for a while. Don't argue with me."

" _Pfft_ ," Daryl huffed. "After all the arguin' ya always give me?" They both chuckled quietly. Carol smiled fondly at Daryl, still sitting on the floor in dirty, rumpled clothes, his hair sticking out every which way from sleep. She gave into the urge and gently reached out to him, running her fingers through his long, messy hair. Daryl's eyes closed and he leaned into her hand as she sifted her fingers through the tangled locks. Carol shivered in response. Daryl never let anyone, even her, touch him like this. Not only was he not flinching, but it looked like he was welcoming her touch.  _He held your hand while you slept and called you baby._  Carol wasn't entirely sure what was happening with them. He'd been very different with her in the four hours since they'd found each other again. She knew they'd have to talk about whatever this was, but at the moment she had somewhere to be.

"I'll be right back," she said softly as she stood up carefully, finding her balance. "Go back to sleep." She could feel his eyes on her as she left the room, smiling despite herself.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Carol crept wearily down the stairs in search of a drink. Carl was burning with fever. She'd had Rick help her force antibiotics down Carl's throat, giving silent thanks for the supplies they had been able to take from the truck stop. It wasn't much, but it was something. She was worried about Carl. He'd been unconscious since he'd passed out during the amputation and it was only now that his body turned warm with fever. Carol wasn't worried about Carl turning; it had been too long since the bite for that. She was, however, deeply worried about infection. The thought reminded her of the burning in her own arm. She took a peek under the dirty bandage covering her gunshot wound; the skin was red and swollen.  _Damn._  She didn't want to use any of the antibiotics for herself, wanting to make their supplies last as long as possible. She did need a good cleaning though and after checking briefly on Daryl to find him asleep (still on the floor, stubborn man), she decided to explore the kitchen to see what she could find.

What she found was light. Electric light, to be exactly. Michonne was sitting at the kitchen table, methodically sharpening her katana with a whetstone. Carol hardly noticed, her attention on the marvel of the lamp over the table, filling the room with a warm glow. It had been so long since they'd had any electricity anywhere that Carol couldn't take her eyes from the burning filaments in the light bulb, just barely visible through the cream lampshade.

"I know, right?" Michonne chuckled. "When Glenn mentioned the light in the shed worked, I went hunting for light bulbs. Found a pack and tada! Let there be light."

Carol giggled, clapping her hands together like a child at Christmas.

"I love it. It's a tiny miracle," she said happily.

"Word."

"Word?" Carol replied archly. Michonne just shrugged and slid the whetstone along her blade. "You've never said that before in your life, have you?"

"Not once." Michonne's stern exterior finally cracked as she allowed a laugh to escape her lips. They laughed together for a moment, caught up in the wonder of a comfort from the old world.  _There is friendship growing here_ , Carol thought, pleased to be someone Michonne felt comfortable enough with to joke. She felt something stir in the Lori-shaped hole inside of her but tried to hold back, not wanting to make too big a deal out of having a new friend.

"Hey, if we have electricity, what are the chances of running water?" Carol asked hopefully.

"None," Michonne sighed. "I already checked."

"Damn," Carol said ruefully.

"There's a well out back," Michonne said casually. "I'm assuming you want to get cleaned up?"

Carol nodded. "We have bottled water from the gas station, but..."

"I get it." Michonne set the whetstone down and stood firmly from the table. "Shall we?"

"I can manage it just fine," Carol said.

Michonne smiled. "I know. I still want to come along, if that's ok." She grabbed a couple of buckets near the back door. Carol wondered when they'd been put there but didn't bother to ask as she stepped outside. They made their way quietly across the large expanse of grass, each carrying a large bucket and weapons drawn and quickly drew as much water from the well as they could carry, keeping a comfortable silence between them while they worked. It was on the way back to the house that Michonne finally spoke again.

"He knew, you know."

"What?" Carol was distracted, trying to manage the heavy bucket of water without spilling it all over.

"Before the tornado hit," Michonne said. "He knew something was wrong back home. All he's wanted to do since is find you. Before anybody else, he wanted to find you. He was a man obsessed."

"He said all of that?" Carol was shocked.

"No," Michonne replied. "But he didn't have to. I could see it in his face and the way he said your name."

Carol was still, setting the bucket on the ground to rest her arms. She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"Why are you telling me this?"

There was silence from her left; she look over to see Michonne gazing at her contemplatively.

"Because I think he finally figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Carol asked.

"You." Michonne nudged Carol with her arm, urging her back towards the house. She hefted the bucket of water again, slowly making her way to the back porch. Carol stayed behind, the bucket of water at her feet as Carol let the jumble of thoughts churn haphazardly in her mind. Her chest was tight, the bubble of emotion that had been building since she'd found Daryl on the stairs threatening to burst and overwhelm her. She turned, leaving the large orange bucket full of water where she'd dropped it and headed back to the well, ignoring the soft call of Michonne trying to catch her attention.

A few yards past the well was a large, oddly shaped tree. The huge trunk split off into several thick, low hanging branches. Carol settled herself onto the lowest of the branches, leaning back against the rough base of the tree as she looked out over the farm. The house was dark, except for the bright beacon of Michonne's electric miracle burning away in the kitchen. She could make out the huge, lumbering shape of the barn and shuddered, ghosts from other times and other barns threatening to reach out and strangle her. There was the tiny shed, her own personal house of horrors and beyond that, the field of wheat, pale in the phosphorescent light of the moon peeking out between dark clouds. She could still see shapes moving here and there in the field, a constant reminder that even now they weren't safe. The wind blew ice cold across her skin and she shivered in her thin, worn shirt, wishing for a sweater. The air was thick and full; another storm was starting to roll in.

_This will never end._

Tendrils of despair uncoiled in her, leaving Carol aching and breathless as she struggled against the weight that suddenly slammed into her chest.  _This will never end._ Rick's idea from so long ago, to find a safe place, somewhere to fortify, lay in tatters. Her family was dead and the survivors scattered to the winds.  _We will always be hurt, always be running._  Walkers, crazy would-be dictators, other survivors, themselves. There was always going to be something chasing them. The idea of this being the rest of her life, always cold, always hungry, always moving...

A shadow fell over her, blocking the moonlight and she looked up to see Daryl standing over her. The look of concern on his face made her want to weep.

"Been longer than a few minutes now," he said softly.

"I know," she said. "I went back, but you were sleeping so I came out with Michonne to get water."

Carol shifted on her branch to make room for Daryl. He sank down next to her with a sigh and a crackle of bones as he rolled his neck.

"Water's in the house," Daryl said.

"I know that too."

They were quiet for a while. Their silences had long stopped being uncomfortable, something Carol enjoyed about the two of them. Daryl never needed to have long discussions that went on for hours, Whatever was happening simply was, and he just went with it as best he could. If he wanted to speak, he would. Carol sat, her fingers playing with the frayed edge of her shirt, trying to enjoy the rare moment of peace as they looked out over the farm together.

"It's just..." Carol started before trailing off. The words weren't coming to her, a strange sensation because it was Daryl. She thought that she had mastered the art of the minefield that was conversing with Daryl. Strange that she now found herself terrified. She tried again.

"It's just so late it's early."  _Well,_   _ **that**_ _made sense._  "I mean, it's got to be between three and four in the morning, right?"

She saw Daryl shrug out of the corner of her eye, keeping her gaze fixed on her fingers as they plucked at the blue fabric of her shirt.

"And it's... four o'clock in the morning is just... an inhuman time to be awake," she rambled. "And Carl has a fever now and I keep thinking about everything that's happened over the three days. How are we supposed to move forward from this? And I just..."

"Havin' one o' those existential crisis things."

Carol looked at Daryl in surprise; he shrugged again and smirked at her. "Only reason to be awake this time of mornin' is to freak out about life or try to find a toilet to vomit in."

"Yay all night benders with Merle," she giggled.

"Mmhmm," Daryl replied nonplussed. "So, whatcha need?"

Carol fiddled with her shirt hem, her fear of sounding weak warring with her urge to be honest.

"Tell me I'm being silly? I don't know."

"Can't."

 _Typical Daryl response._  It made her almost smile.

"Ya ain't bein'  _silly_ ," he continued, surprising her. It was the same voice he used in their sparring time, her mind flashing back on him instructing her how to wield her knives. "Be more concerned if you weren't worried. All of this has been... Jesus, Carol." Daryl closed his eyes, tiredly rubbing his face with his hand.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I know that. I do. I just needed-"

"-to know you weren't th' only one," Daryl finished for her. "Ya ain't."

They fell quiet again, letting a more comfortable silence stretch out over them as they watched the clouds roll in. Daryl made no move to touch her or scoot closer to her; either he really had reached his physical contact quota for the day or he was waiting for her to make the first move. Somehow, she thought it was the latter, a thought that both excited and terrified her.

"Daryl." The whisper hung between them as she watched Daryl from the corner of her eye. Trying not to let him know she was watching him, always watching him and wanting more than she ever thought she'd be allowed to have. "You know this is how the rest of our lives will be?"

He nodded, still watching the night sky. "Always runnin', lookin' for somewhere safe." Carol smiled sadly, not at all surprised how in tune Daryl was with her own thoughts. It had been this way between them for a long time now, able to share so much with so little.

"Do you really want to do  _this_  now?"

There. She'd asked it. She'd asked  _him_ , vocalizing for the first time the possibility of  _them_ , shattering the last wall between them and plunging the straight and narrow path of their friendship into dark uncertainty. The silence stretched out, the air between them practically vibrating with nervousness. He would reply or flee, but either way she'd finally have an answer. Anxiety tightened her chest until she couldn't breathe but deep inside, there was a warm flicker of what Carol thought might be hope.

"You deserve so much more than anythin' I can give you."

 _God, Daryl._ Another crack formed inside of her. One for each time Daryl said or did something that broke her heart. She wanted to cry, wanted to reach over and pull him into her arms.

"That's not what I asked," she said sadly.

Daryl sighed heavily, leaning back against the thick tree trunk. Carol could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to find the words to answer her.

"The smart thing would have been to look somewhere else," he said slowly, "because I... Carol." Twice now in the space of 15 minutes he'd said her name, an occurrence as rare as his newfangled habit of calling her 'baby'. "I am... fucked up would be a great way of putttin' it."

 _Would have been_. Carol twitched as the words sank in. The little fire inside of her chest flickered a little warmer, a little faster now.

"So am I," she replied lightly. "I knew all of that before, Daryl. It's never bothered me enough to not want more." She watched her own weathered fingers pluck at a helpless thread now untangling itself from the hem of her tattered shirt. "I... Daryl, I've known where I stand with this for a long time. I never expected more though, because I thought I knew where you stood. Then the Governor happened and you were all I could think about. I hated myself for not looking harder for you, but I couldn't because there were tanks after us and then Carl and..." She took a deep breath to calm herself down, not wanting the bubble of emotion threatening to burst inside of her to carry her away.

"And now," Carol continued. "Now, you're here and you're like a whole other person with me. Not the others, just me. And I'm scared, Daryl."

She still couldn't look at him, not willing to see what migbht be reflected in his eyes. She pulled lightly at the string, slowly unraveling the hem of her shirt with nervous fingers. They were the only part of her that moved; otherwise, she was still where she sat on the tree.

"Me too."  _Damn._

_In for a penny..._

"I just... If we do this... Just, try to give me a warning if you get the uncontrollable urge to run for the hills because its suddenly too much for you, okay?"

Daryl snorted. "So ya ain't lookin' to fix me, that it?"

"Oh, Daryl," Carol said sadly. "You've never needed  _fixing_." Carol took a deep breath. "I just love you, that's all."

_...In for a pound._

The silence was long and heavy. Carol felt the minutes tick by in her bones as she waited. The land around them was so silent Carol thought that even the crickets were holding their breath and cursing her for her stupidity. Her mouth was watery and she wondered if she might throw up.

"Our timin' sucks," Daryl said abruptly.

"Yeah," she said shakily. The urge to vomit receded a little.

"Pretty much anyone'd be better for ya," he continued.

"That isn't really your call," Carol chided gently. She felt the beginnings of a wobbly smile stirring at the corners of her mouth.

"I... Shit, you know it ain't just you, right?" The words were tumbling out as she'd never heard from Daryl before; fast and jumbled and full of more emotion than she'd seen even at Merle's death. "You've gotta know that. It ain't. I'm crazy about you, Carol. You're the only thing... Christ, baby,  _look_  at me."

Carol bit her lip and smiled giddily, her toes curling inside her shoes. She was a block of ice, it was four in the morning, she was filthy and hungry, there were walkers on the property and they could be discovered by a herd at any moment, there was a psychotic one eyed madman chasing them and she didn't give a damn because Daryl was crazy about her.  _This_  was  _ridiculous_. She finally raised her eyes to Daryl and was suddenly, completely, joyfully overwhelmed by him. He didn't have to say it back. She could  _see_  it, she could see everything reflected in the clear depths of sky blue staring back at her. The fluttering hope inside her chest broke free, shattering the last coils of anxiety and flying on light wings like a nightingale into the early morning sky as she and Daryl reached for each other.

The kiss was soft, warm and clumsy. Everything she could have ever wanted. She could feel Daryl shaking under her hands; she was shaking just as much as he cupped her face in his hands.

"Shit, you feel like ice," Daryl gasped as he broke away from her lips.

Carol laughed.  _I could die here and be happy_. "Warm me up, then," she said, surprising herself with her boldness.

Daryl grinned, actually grinned, at her as he leaned back in and caught her lips again. Carol kissed him back with everything she had, trying to tell him through touch exactly how she felt. Their kisses were stumbling, clumsy, as they slowly learned the shape of each other. Carol took the lead and Daryl followed, ceasing his trembling and growing more and more confident as she showed him how she wanted to be kissed. Just as she ran her tongue lightly across his bottom lip, reality intruded.

"Carol!"  _Maggie. Yup, killing her and making it look like an accident_. She pulled away from Daryl with a regretful sigh, quickly stroking his face with her hand. She didn't think Daryl would want to be so overly affectionate with her in front of the others, so she was surprised when Daryl kept his arms around her as Maggie grew closer.

"What?" Daryl growled as Maggie reached the tree, gasping for breath.

"Carol, you have to come right now," Maggie gasped. "Carl's awake."


	11. Bye, Bye, Blackbird

_**Disclaimer:**  You really think I own anything? Ha! That's hilarious._

_**A/N:**  This chapter sucked the life out of me. It covers a lot of ground and ran me through the full emotional gamut. If I have made you feel  **anything**  with this, please review._

_I love you guys._

* * *

**Chapter 11: Bye, Bye, Blackbird**

Time seemed lurch forward in fits and spurts, whole hours disappearing in the blink of an eye, yet Daryl found himself counting endless minutes as they dragged on. Waiting for Rick and Carol to come out from Carl's room, helping Michonne block up the back door as they noticed more walkers making their way out of the wheat field, trying to convince Carol to get some more rest. He'd taken her by the arm, trying to coax her upstairs, and had jumped nearly a foot when she'd gasped and winced, her arm jerking beneath his hand. It took him half a second to realize she'd been injured and not said anything about it during the recap of their prison escape. He'd instantly hollered for Rick and, after both of them cajoled Carol over her insistent claims that she was  _fine_ , figured out she'd been shot and the wound was now infected.

He was furious with her. Absolutely furious.  _Always puttin' herself behind everbody else. Fuckin' nonsense._  Daryl paced back and forth along the small kitchen, watching with narrow eyes as Rick cleaned the bullet wound on Carol's arm with the remnants of the Glenn's tiny first aid kit.

"I can't believe you didn't mention this sooner," Rick chided Carol as he worked. Carol huffed an exasperated sigh. Daryl snorted and Carol rolled her eyes.

"Don't think we ain't discussin' this later," he snarled threateningly.

"Oh, for the love of God. It's FINE," Carol said yet again. "It's just a graze. I cleaned it with alcohol as soon as we made it to the gas station and bandaged it."

"And ya ain't changed it since," Daryl said.

"Yes, because I've had SO MUCH TIME to take care of things like that," Carol snapped back. Daryl and Rick froze, Daryl arching an amused eyebrow at her.  _Lioness' got her claws out._  "Sorry," Carol mumbled.

"Don't be," Daryl replied softly. "Rather have ya fight me back than not."

"Please let me be the one to remind you that you just said that the next time she yells at you," Rick begged as he tied off a clean bandage around Carol's arm. Daryl just smirked in response as Maggie, Glenn and Michonne came down into the kitchen.

"Hows the arm?" Glenn yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. Carol moaned and slumped over, letting her head thunk on the table as Rick and Daryl both chuckled.

"She's "fine", 'parently," Daryl said, curling his fingers to make air quotes to indicate just how "fine" he thought Carol really was. It was driving him crazy that he hadn't taken the time to check her over for injuries like he'd wanted, exhaustion having been the driving force in him earlier.

"You should take this," Rick said, sliding a small white pill across the table. Carol raised her head slightly to look and instantly sat back.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head firmly. "Carl needs those more than I do."

Daryl groaned and leaned his head back against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose with tired fingers. He wasn't surprised she'd refused the antibiotic Rick was offering; that was her way. Making sure everyone else was taken care of,  _caring_ , keeping the rest of them human. It was what he loved most about Carol, but it was also the thing that made him completely exasperated with her most of the time.

"What's wrong?"

Daryl opened his eyes to see that Carol's question was not directed at him, but at Maggie. He looked and saw the long, drawn, serious faces of Maggie and Glenn and knew that they were going to have the conversation they had all been edging around all night.

"There isn't a point in leaving before dawn," Michonne said.

"That in about an hour," Maggie shot back. "We have to go."

"No one is saying we shouldn't go," Rick said in his Officer Rick voice.

"Can we even move Carl?" Glenn wondered. "Sure, he woke up and was lucid, but that doesn't mean he's ready to go back out there."

"Maybe some of us could stay here-"

"Splittin' up ain't an option," Daryl said swiftly, throwing himself into the conversation. "We jus' found each other again an' you want us to separate? Not happenin."

"Daryl, it's my family," Maggie pleaded.

"You think we don't know that?" Carol said softly. "It's our family too."

And there was the heart of it. Yes, the two groups had managed to find each other, a feat most would have considered impossible. However, there were still members of their family out there somewhere, hopefully alive. With the world as it was now, the reasonable course of action was clearly to cut their losses, be thankful for who they had with them and move on to safer pastures, if there were any. Hell, they'd even done it before themselves.

Daryl knew that being reasonable wasn't an option this time. He'd never forgive himself for not trying to find Ass-Kicker. Daryl shook his head, dragging himself back to the conversation that had carried on without him. Rick had moved from his place at the table; he and Glenn and Michonne were talking about taking the car, mapping out potential places to stock up on fuel. Daryl sank into the empty chair, trying to keep himself as relaxed as possible to relieve his aching muscles from the constant tension wrought from too much anxiety and adrenaline. He gazed across the table at Carol, watching her as she half listened to the conversation going on behind her and half stared back at him, resting her head in one tiny palm. She was tracing patterns on the tabletop with a delicate finger, an idle process that Daryl knew meant she was thinking too hard again.

"Always worryin'," he said so softly he wasn't sure she'd heard him. The gentle quirk of her lips let him know she had, though.

"It makes sense," Carol said quietly, ignoring his comment. "With Carl barely conscious, let alone moving, going out there again on foot isn't really going to be an option."

"You ready for this again?" Daryl asked her.

"I got a choice?" Carol smiled wryly. Daryl found his own lips turning up back at her before he could catch himself.  _Damn woman has me wrapped around her little finger already._

"Least we'll all fit in one car this time," Daryl muttered. It took less than half a second and the weight of his own words hit them both.

_Well, shit._

Daryl watched as Carol's face crumpled in time with the sinking of his own heart. Without a second thought, he reached out and quickly covered her hand in both of his large ones as he leaned across the table.

"I know, baby," he whispered so only she could hear. She nodded shakily and took in a deep breath, once, before lifting her free hand and quickly brushing away the tears that had filled her eyes. Daryl waited, rubbing his thumb in small circles across the pulse point in her wrist. When their eyes met again, her gaze was clear, strong and determined. Daryl marveled again at the woman before him and how far she'd come. He didn't think he'd ever stop being amazed by her.

"Two hours should be enough time." Rick's voice cut its way into Daryl's consciousness. he jerked his gaze away from Carol and nodded in agreement.

"Gonna be walkers on our way out," he replied.

"I don't think we can help that anymore," Carol said. "We've pushed our luck in this place as it is. The house won't hold up against a herd, we all know that."

"What happens once we make the car?" Glenn asked.

"The pharmacy," Rick said. "I think that's where Hershel would have gone and none of us have been that way yet."

"Might as well start there," Michonne said quietly.

"I'll take watch," Rick said. "The rest of you, take what rest you can. We move out in 2 hours."

Daryl shepherded Carol upstairs, stopping to grab a large bowl of water and a couple of cloths. She was moving slowly, sluggish.  _Not gettin' enough sleep_ , Daryl worried.  _None of us are._  Daryl gently prodded Carol forward, easing her into their room and shutting the door behind them with a soft snikt. There were women's clothes on the bed; Maggie had clearly been scavenging through the house. Carol and Glenn hadn't had the luxury of a shower or a change of clothes since all of this had started.

Carol sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. Daryl set the bowl and clothes on the floor but before he could kneel there was a knock at the door.

"You've got to me shitting me, Greene," Daryl grumbled as he opened the door. To his surprise, it was Rick, not Maggie, who greeted him solemnly. Rick said nothing to Daryl, simply held out his hand. There, in Rick's palm, was a tiny white pill. Daryl sighed, remembering, and nodded thankfully at Rick as he let the pill drop from Rick's hand into his own. He moved back, about to let the door swing shut, when Rick spoke.

"Are you sure about this?" Rick gestured to the room. He didn't need to. Daryl knew what he was really asking. It would have rankled him if he hadn't understood why.  _Least I'm not the only one looking out for her._

"Yeah," Daryl replied.

"Good," Rick said after a long moment. They waited a moment more, both of them shuffling their feet slightly, before Rick simply turned and made his way downstairs. Daryl sighed as he shut the door and moved back to Carol, still sitting on the bed but watching him now with tired eyes.

"C'mere," Daryl said softly. Carol stood, wavering slightly and Daryl reached out, taking her by her waist with both hands and pulling her closer to him.

_It's just Carol. Don't throw up, Dixon._

* * *

Any thought of sleep fled Carol's mind the second Daryl touched her waist and pulled her to him. Her heart jumped, sputtering erratically as his fingers fiddled with the hem of her top. The tip of Daryl's finger just brushed the sensitive skin of her stomach and she thought she might faint. She released a shaky gasp the exact same moment Daryl did, their breath mingling together in the small space between them, making them both laugh. His fingers were twisting in the hem of her shirts, pulling, lifting. Carol raised her arms automatically as Daryl pulled her sweater and shirt over her head, leaving her in nothing but the tank top she habitually wore under her shirts.

She could see him shaking like a leaf, a bundles of nerves in front of her. His eyes, however, were determined as he slowly trailed his hands over her shoulders, sliding across her collarbones and up her neck. Carol closed her eyes as Daryl leaned in, accepting the soft kiss and trying to hold back the tremors inside of her. Wow, he's a fast learner. The kiss was much less clumsy this time and Carol found herself shaking as Daryl pulled her tight against him, biting softly on her lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. Carol, surprised at her own darling, licked and teased at Daryl's lips until he finally opened his mouth for her and let his tongue meet hers. He moaned into her mouth and pulled her tighter, cradling her head with one hand while the other slid down her back to curl at her hips. She slid her hand across his chest to rest over his heart, feeling the frantic thrumming inside of him while he shook in her arms.

Carol could barely breathe for the fierce beating of her own heart as their kisses grew deeper.  _Oh God, are we really doing this now? We have the worst timing..._  Daryl's hand trailed back down the column of her throat, skimming down her side so he could wrap both arms around her, holding her even tighter than before and almost lifting her off the ground.  _... Timing shmiming._

Carol surrendered, throwing herself into the kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her as her feet actually left the ground. With nimble fingers Carol caressed the skin down Daryl's arm, feeling the muscles tense and flex as she moved before snaking two fingers between the buttons of Daryl's shirt. He broke away from her at last, burying his face into her hair with a gasp and setting her back on the ground.  _Too fast._

"Holy shit," he panted into her ear.

"Uh-huh," she gasped.

The room was spinning; Carol shut her eyes and nuzzled her face into Daryl's shoulder. If just kissing was getting her this worked up, what was sex with Daryl going to be like?  _Sex with Daryl, oh Jesus take the wheel..._  Carol almost swooned all over again, barely keeping her feet under her as she clung to Daryl. To her surprise, he started to laugh.

"Ain't quite what I had planned," he laughed softly.

"And just what was your plan?" Carol murmured.

"Gettin' you cleaned up like you wanted."

Carol pulled back in surprise. Daryl was smirking at her and she strongly suspected he was resisting the same urge she was; to grin like a damn fool. It was insane to be this happy with everything else going on, and yet here they stood. Daryl pointed to the floor, where Carol noticed for the first time the blow of water and towels Daryl had brought up with them. She also saw the clothes on the bed and almost danced with joy.

"FINALLY!" Carol cheered as she pulled herself from Daryl's arms. "I've been dying to get clean." She turned as saw the blush creeping up Daryl's cheeks.

"You can stay," she smiled. "Just turn around."

"One thing first," Daryl said. He reached into his pocket and held out the pill to her.

"Daryl, I don't need-"

"You do." He was using his soft voice with her, the one that always got her to melt inside just the tiniest bit, but this time there was steel underneath. She knew there would be no arguing her way out of this time. Carol sighed and took the pill, shoving it into her mouth and wincing as she swallowed the pill dry.

"OK, I took the pill," Carol said. "Happy?"

"Yes," Daryl said simply. She could see it in his face; he was happy. Happy she'd taken the medicine, happy they were here together, happy with her. The thought made her tingle and she smiled gently at him.

"Good," she said. "Now turn around. We move in less than 2 hours and I want to catch a nap before then."

"Yes'm," Daryl smirked, turning his back to her as she picked up a towel and the bowl of water. She sighed happily as she started to scrub the several days worth of muck and grime from her body. It wasn't the full, deep clean of a shower, but it would certainly be better.

"Hey, uh..." Daryl started. Carol looked up; he was at the window, with his back still to her to give her privacy.

"We have a problem outside?" she asked hurridly.

"No," Daryl was quick to assure her. "Coupla walkers, but nothin' more than what was out there earlier." He fidgeted, gnawing on the skin of his thumb. She wanted to take the thumb from his mouth and kiss it, pull it into her mouth and watch his face as she sucked on it.

"I, uh... shit," Daryl fumbled. Carol tried not to smirk; he was adorable when he was flustered. "You and me... I've never..."

Oh.

"Daryl, I know," she said quietly. "Its ok."

"No," he sighed. "I ain't... with anyone, Carol."

"I  _know_ ," she replied. She moved behind him and, before he could protest, wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against his back. His hands moved down to cover hers were they linked across his stomach, gently threading their fingers together. Carol pressed a kiss to the base of his neck and laid her cheek across the wing of his shoulder.

"Do you trust me?" she asked him, her voice soft.

"Flamingos", he replied.

Carol snorted with laughter into his shirt, feeling his chest move as he chuckled as their joke.  _Ask a stupid question..._

"Right then," Carol said. "So it's ok."

She waited, holding her breath. She didn't have to wait long.

"OK," Daryl said.

They stayed that way for a while, Carol hugging herself to Daryl's back with their hands clasped over his stomach. They were swaying slightly, Daryl rocking on his feet and Carol letting herself get pulled along. She felt him relaxing in her embrace and she nuzzled her nose along collar of his shirt, enjoying the precious moment of peace and quiet.

"OK," Daryl breathed out. Carol smiled against his shirt and pulled away, moving back to finish her bath. She scrubbed until the water was black with dirt and she felt she was as clean as she could get. She started stripping the worn clothes off of her body, the cloth so dirty and tattered it felt like it might disintegrate under her fingers at any second.

"Damn," Daryl muttered.

"What is it?" she asked him. He was still at the window. Carol could just make out the first tints of pink in the sky as the sun started to rise. Maybe an hour left. Daryl's eye were narrowed at something she couldn't see.

"We got another storm comin'."

_Damn._

* * *

The last hour had flown by and Daryl found himself twitching next to the front door with his crossbow hitched up on his shoulder, nervously watching the walkers milling around outside. There weren't a lot of them, but enough between the house and the car that he was nervous. In addition to his crossbow, he shouldered a large pack of supplies - the total amount delegated for himself and Carol. He would be helping Rick carry Carl while Maggie was making the lead spring to the car to get it started, leaving Carol, Glenn and Michonne to defend everyone against the walkers. It was going to be tricky.

The sun was up now. Daryl could just see glimmers of the bright, cheerful rays peeking over the edge of the dark storm clouds rolling in.  _Here we go again._

There was a loud thunk behind him. Daryl turned to see Rick and Carol maneuvering Carl between them to the bottom of the stairs. Behind Daryl, everyone was in place next to the door.

"We ready?" Rick asked.

"As we'll ever be," Glenn replied.

Daryl moved forward, reaching out to grab Carol's elbow, taking a second to let his fingers caress her skin. His heart was pounding, his ears suddenly filled with a rush of white noise.  _We haven't had enough time yet._  God, if it was going to be this bad just trying to get to the damn car he was going to have a full meltdown the first time they hit a town to scavenge.

Carol could obviously see something in his face, because suddenly her hand was on his face. He turned slightly into it, letting his cheek rest against her palm, breathing her in, filling his nose with the scent of her. It calmed him, reminded him that she was as strong as he was. Hell, stronger in most ways. He had physical strength, he could track, but Carol... damn woman was made of steel inside. She'd been forged in fires as bad, if not worse, than his own and had come out the other side a phoenix; fierce, bright, beautiful.

Daryl pressed a quick kiss to Carol's palm and nodded his head. She smiled at him and shifted, letting Daryl slide in to take her place and shoulder some of the burden of Carl's weight. The boy was drifting in and out of consciousness and his skin raged with the burn of fever. Daryl could feel it through the two layers of clothes separating his skin from Carl's and shuddered. He hoped there was another miracle in their future.

Daryl knelt and lifted Carl's legs in one arm, other other curled around the boy's back. Rick's arms did the same, linking with Daryl's to make a human chair for Carl to rest in. The door hinges squealed worse than nails on a chalkboard as Maggie slowly opened the door, watching Glenn and Carol make their way onto the porch. Carol was to cover Glenn, while Maggie and Michonne would keep watch over Rick, Daryl and Carl. Glenn's adamant declaration had surprised all of them - he'd wanted Carol with him.  _Time for thinking is done._

Daryl shifted his feet under him and he tried to balance the weight of the bags with Carl as they edged towards the door.

"Here we go," he muttered.

* * *

There was a horrible squish as Carol's knife drove through bone and brain. Thick black gunk ran over her hand from the head of the walker she'd just sliced open and she quickly wrenched her knife free and shook off as much of the filth as she could.  _So much for my bath._

They'd been lucky so far. They'd just had one walker spot them creeping from tree to tree on their roundabout path to the car. Carol and Glenn were tense and silent as they stalked in the shadows. She'd been surprised Glenn had picked her over Maggie, but one look from him and she'd understood. The last 3 days had changed them both. She knew if a situation arose and she couldn't have Daryl with her, she'd want Glenn over any of the others. They were bonded like soldiers in battle now.

There were walkers everywhere, more and more pouring out of the wheat field and from the far end of the property behind the house, back by the well where, just a couple of hours ago, she'd kissed Daryl. She shook her head and tried to focus. They were getting closer to the Suburban, but they had no idea what might be waiting for him behind the barn.

30 yards now. 25 yards. They were moving faster, still keeping quiet. The clouds were almost pitch black and rolling in fast. Balls. Carol knew another big storm was headed their way. They came to a rest behind a tree, panting slightly.

"Ever notice that whenever we have to move, lately, the weather starts to suck?" Glenn asked.

"Hush, you," Carol whispered. "I already think the weather is a bad omen. Don't add to it."

She chanced a quick look behind them. The others were still several yards back but making good progress. Maggie and Michonne circled the boys like hawks guarding their nest, weapons drawn and ready. Glenn tapped her twice on the shoulder, refocusing her attention on the task at hand. Time to move.

Only 20 yards now, and there was nothing between them and the car they could hide behind. They waited, watching a couple walkers straggle along until Carol judged they were far enough away to not notice them. She nodded to Glenn, who winked at her. Carol smirked and rolled her eyes, holding up 3 fingers. 2 fingers. 1 finger.

They went at a dead sprint, legs pumping as fast as they could manage. A walker emerged from behind the Suburban and shuffled towards them with a snarl. With reflexes honed from hours of training, Carol kept running as she hurled her knife and watched with immense satisfaction as the blade landed deep in the thing's forehead, right on target. She didn't stop running as she swiftly leaned over and wrenched it free, leaping over the body to catch up to Glenn as he skidded up to the driver's door, fumbling the keys from his pocket.

Carol snaked around the car, bringing down two more walkers in her path. She winced as more gore splattered across her face. She managed to make her way to the back of the car, where she could sneak a peek at the area behind the barn.  _Shit. I really, really hate barns._  She signaled to Glenn, telling him to wait and quickly made her way to his side.

"At least two dozens walkers back there," she whispered quickly. "Maybe more."

"Son of a bitch," Glenn swore. He quickly flagged down Daryl, telling them to wait behind the last tree. Glenn reached inside and stuck the key in the ignition, shifting the car into neutral and removing the parking brake. Carol moved fast, taking her place behind the car and pushing with all of her might, hoping gravity would pick up a little extra slack for her. Glenn pushed from his position up front as he steered the car with one hand on the wheel.

It was hard going, but they made progress, slowly inching the heavy vehicle over to the group. The increasing wind didn't help, the squall making its way towards them faster and faster. They were almost there when Carol heard the snarls behind her. Once glance over her shoulder and she knew their time was up. Walkers were coming at them from all sides, pouring out from behind the barn at an alarming rate. There were even more than she'd thought. A look ahead and she saw the herd coming at them from the house.

"Glenn, start the car!"

Glenn quickly jumped into the drivers seat. The engine roared to life as Carol sprinted forwards, reaching out to help as Daryl and Rick rushed up with Carl. They made their way to the Suburban and she quickly jumped into the backseat, easing Carl down onto the bench with his head in her lap. She could hear the dull thunk and squish as the first of the walkers reached them, meeting a speedy end at the hands of Maggie and Michonne as Rick clambered into the car. The door behind her opened and she turned, her knife raised only to meet the calm, fierce eyes of Daryl Dixon. He smirked at her, leased with her response, as he jumped into the car and wedged himself into the small space left on the bench.

"Come on," he hollered outside, flinging the sacks of supplies into the back of the car before heaving himself over the bench to kneel in the empty space.

The front door opened and Maggie leapt into the passenger seat. Michonne made her way through the open door behind Carol and climbed over the bench to join Daryl in the back. Carol reached back and slammed the door shut, cutting off three rotting fingers as a ghoulish hand clamped down on the door frame.

"GO GO GO" Rick cried. Carol heard the engine rev as Glenn floored the gas pedal. The Suburban leapt forward, bouncing as they rolled over several bodies on their way out. Carol wiped the sweat from Carl's forehead with the sleeve of her shirt, watching the blur of trees out the front windshield. Rivets of water began trailing down the windows as the rain started to fall, making odd patterns as the car swerved back and forth, Glen making his way back to the main road.

Daryl reached over the back of the bench and held his hand in front of her, staring fixedly at her. Carol grabbed it without hesitation, squeezing his fingers in her own and heaving a sigh of relief as they reached the smoother pavement of the highway. She kept her eyes out the front windshield, refusing to look back at the line of hungry dead things she knew were trailing after them. Daryl kept his hand in hers, occasionally squeezing her fingers as he settled into a more comfortable position in the back.

They were running again.

* * *

Daryl lost track of time in the car.

They all dozed on and off, catching up on what sleep they could. At some point, Michonne and Glenn had traded places ( _how had he missed that?_ ) and Glenn now napped next to him, sprawled out in the Suburban's trunk space.

They stopped twice in the times he was awake, once to give them all a chance to relive themselves and again to let Maggie take the wheel from Michonne while Daryl refueled the car with one of the two remaining gas cans. Carol was mostly focused on Carl, dosing him with more antibiotics and napping when she could as the day wore on.

He slept when she did.

By his rough reckoning, it had to have been late afternoon when Michonne slowed the car to a crawl before stopping on a rough shoulder of dirt next to the highway.

"Town's about a quarter mile out," She said.

Daryl felt the adrenaline start to pump through him, his senses coming into sharp focus. They were almost to the pharmacy, located in a small town north of their prison home and one of their last hiding spots.  _Time to hunt._

"What's the plan?" Carol asked, her voice scratchy from sleep.

"We'll drive up to the edge of the town and park there. Michonne and I will stay in the car with Carl," Rick said firmly. "The four of you will look for Hershel and Beth and gather what supplies you can."

Michonne started the Suburban again and drove slowly, taking time to reach the edge of the town. It wasn't even really much of a town, smaller than the one the Greene family had lived in. There was a tiny convenience store with an ancient gas pump in front of it, the hoses unhooked and dragging listlessly on the rainswept concrete. There was a scattering of small clapboard houses and, across from the world's smallest police station, the pharmacy. Cars were littered up and down the main road; a couple overturned, remnants of a long ago accident in the midst of the chaos that had ensued when civilization was still ending. There was no streetlight, just a 4-way stop in the middle of town. Only one stop sign remained, faded and forlorn.

It gave new meaning to the term "ghost town". Daryl shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. There was something off here, even more than normal in this forgotten place. He leaned against the open door of the car and held up a finger, signaling the others to wait a moment.

 _Somethin' ain't right._  Daryl's eyes narrowed and he slung his crossbow off his shoulder, quickly flicking the safety catch off and holding it ready. There were streaks in the dirt covering the cars and there, by the pharmacy door...

"God dammit," Daryl swore.

"What?!" Rick hissed from inside the car.

"They've been here," he replied.

"They have," Maggie asked excitedly. Daryl shook his head.

"The Gov'nor," he said quietly. "There's bullet holes by th' pharmacy door an' I can see tracks in the dirt."

He saw Carol lean forward and cover her face with her hands as the others made various noises of grief and anger. Daryl felt cold come over him, felt the anger that had filled him at Merle's death and the prison massacre surge back up in him.  _Sonofabitch_.

"Might as well check it out," he said, gesturing towards the lonely town with his crossbow. "C'mon. Losin' daylight."

 _Losin' daylight, my ass._  He almost laughed at himself. It was pouring down rain, the clouds above thick and dark. He could tell the day had almost passed, though. What little light there was still was fading fast, the shadows growing even longer in the cold dark of the storm. He waited while Carol, Glenn and Maggie made their way out of the car and over to him, all of them with weapons ready. He nodded at Rick, who stared back at him with a desperate expression. Daryl knew what Rick was asking.  _Find my daughter._

The four companions swept quickly, silently down the darkened street. Daryl half expected a windblown tumbleweed to stumble across the road, like something from the old movies his ma used to watch.

"Just before you saw the villain," he muttered under his breath.

"Or something bad happened."

Daryl turned in surprise; Carol was next to him, watching him with a dark expression on her face.

"What didya say?" he asked nervously.

"You're totally waiting for a tumbleweed or a lone piece of paper to go wafting by in the wind," Carol said. "So am I. It's like something from an old horror movie."

Daryl just stared at her.  _Fucking hell. She can actually read my mind._  They were getting soaked from the steady patter of rain falling around them, over them. He watched the water cascade over her, down her neck to curl across her collarbone before disappearing under her shirt. He wanted to follow that trail of water with his tongue.

"I love you," he said suddenly, the words jumping out of him before he could think. They hung in the air between them, loud and shocking in the still quiet of this dead town. Carol blinked, twice, before smiling hugely.

"You're right," she said.

Daryl ran a nervous hand through his hair, snagging on several tangles and feeling the grit caked onto his scalp.

"'Bout what?"

"Our timing sucks," she chuckled darkly. "But I love you too." She leaned up and gave him a quick, soft kiss that left him tingling from his head to the soles of his feet.

"Now," Carol continued, "let's go find our family."

* * *

The silence was deafening. Carol felt as though every footstep, every breath in and out of her lungs echoed hugely in the empty town. There was nothing, nothing but empty cars, trash and the occasional dead body littering the street. No walkers, though. It was unnerving, too reminiscent to Carol of the time just before the attack on the prison. Every nerve ending was alive and screeching at her, making her shake as she walked.  _Cool it, girlie. You need to keep your head._

Carol wiped at the windows of the cars on the street, trying to peek inside without opening any doors. Nothing greeted her but the cold, empty eyes of the corpses inside. At the fourth or fifth car she checked with the same results, she sighed and rested her head on the vehicle's cold metal frame. She felt a hand on her back; Daryl. She turned and nodded at him.  _Yes, I'm all right._  She raised her head to check on Maggie and Glenn across the street and froze.

"Daryl," she said shortly. Daryl turned around and looked at what she was seeing; Maggie, at the curb of the pharmacy, her face frozen in an open expression of horror. Glenn was running; they'd apparently split up without Carol noticing. Maggie's expression grew larger. Carol realized she was running, sprinting across the street to clamp a hand over Maggie's mouth before she could scream.

"Good Christ," Glenn said as he skidded to a halt next to them, his arms immediately reaching out to pull Maggie next to him. Carol let her hand fall from Maggie's mouth as the girl crumpled into Glenn, burying her face in his shoulder while the rest of them stared at the battered, desicated body sprawled on the curb at Maggie's feet.

There was no question about who it had been, with the white hair and beard that reminded Carol so often of Ahab from 'Moby Dick' that she'd taken to calling him 'Captain' in their lighter moments at the prison. Walkers had clearly been at the body; huge chunks were missing from Hershel's side and arms. Half of his face was completely gone; the other side was oddly clear, almost untouched. The eye that remained was closed, the expression, from what Carol could tell, peaceful.

The ground wavered and spun. She leaned on Daryl, turning her face away from the corpse and closing her eyes. Daryl clutched her back fiercely, his grip so tight it was almost painful. The wind whipped across her face, cold as ice. The storm was getting worse.

"We can't leave him like this," Maggie choked out.

"We won't," Glenn reassured her quickly.

"Should check inside first," Daryl said slowly. "See if..." He trailed off. She could tell he was uncertain how to finish.

"Yeah," Glenn nodded. "Let's move."

Carol spared one last glance at Hershel where he lay sprawled half in the rain drenched gutter.  _No, we can't leave him here._  She wondered if they would have time to bury him properly before more horrors came upon them. A large part of her doubted it.

They made their way slowly, carefully inside the pharmacy. Daryl took point, his crossbow armed and ready. He took care to shield her with his body as much as he could, shifting minutely to counter every step she took as he watched her with one eye while the other swept the small pharmacy. Glenn had given up trying to wield his machete and had it sheathed, simply pulling Maggie along as she sobbed into his chest. Carol gently reached out and took both Maggie and Glenn's empty supply bags. Glenn nodded gratefully and pulled Maggie onto the small bench in what must have been the waiting area.

It didn't take Daryl and Carol long to scour every nook and cranny of the pharmacy, shoving what supplies were left into their packs and searching fruitlessly for any sign of Beth or Judith. They found none. Carol's chest was tight, aching painfully as each empty corner reminded her more and more of Sophia.  _Don't think like that, Carol._  Daryl came up silently next to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"There's a basement door behind th' counter," he told her, his voice oddly pinched. She just nodded, squaring her shoulders determinedly as they quickly moved behind the counter.

Several of the shelves behind the counter had toppled over at some point. Tiny pills crunched under their feet and mixed with the dust on the floor, an inch thick in some places. She saw the tiny square of the door in the floor that must lead to the basement.

The dust was scattered, shifted. Recently, she realized. Carol looked and saw footprints in the dirt, smaller than Daryl's, leading to the far side of the space. There was something small crumpled beneath the shattered drive thru window. Daryl was suddenly in her space, blocking her view before she could figure out what she was seeing.

"Don't look," he said gruffly.

"What is it?" she whispered. Daryl hesitated, his eyes darting everyone, looking at everything except her face. " _Daryl_."

"It's Beth," he said quietly.

Her vision blurred and she finally burst, covering her mouth with her hand to quiet her sobs as she dropped her pack and sank to the floor. In seconds, she was pulled into and surrounded by something wet but warm, comforting and familiar.  _Daryl._

"Shhh," he mumbled into her hair. "I know, baby."

She couldn't speak, the words lodging in her throat and making her choke. She wanted to cry, to scream, to hurl her frustration and grief and rage at the sky, the walkers, even Daryl himself. Hershel was dead, Beth was dead, which meant there was no way Judith could possibly be alive. Carol Peletier had failed another child. Her heart broke as she shuddered in Daryl's arms, ripped in two at the knowledge that there was no one left alive to find. She couldn't find breath enough to scream, couldn't cry. Her lungs were burning and she realized she was hyperventilating as Daryl leaned back and curled his fingers around her neck, gently squeezing the pressure points at the base of her skull.

"Breathe, Carol," he chanted softly. "In an' out. In an' out. That's my girl."

It took a while, but he stayed with her, keeping a slow rhythm for her to match her breathing to while she slowly calmed herself. She realized Maggie was still in the other room and didn't know. The thought calmed her down and Carol wiped her face, still taking deep, slow breaths. Daryl was watching her carefully, his own eyes shiny and red rimmed and she realized he must have shed rare tears of his own while she cried.

"I just..." she started softly.

Daryl didn't say anything, just nodded and stroked his fingers soothingly across her neck.

"Oh God, Daryl," she whispered. Daryl leaned in and rested his forehead on hers, their noses lightly brushing each other.

"We're gonna be ok," he said firmly.

"Lori is never going to forgive me," Carol choked out. "I broke my promise."

" ** _Carol_**." Daryl sounded like he was in pain. She raised her eyes to his and found so much grief and love mingled together staring back at her that she gasped.

"Guys?" she heard Glenn call from the front room. "Everything ok?"

Still keeping her gaze locked with Daryl's, Carol opened her mouth to answer but froze when the first noise reached her. It was faint, so faint she thought she may have imagined it except for the widening of Daryl's eyes.

A tiny, angry wailing was coming from the other side of the room. Crying. A  _child's_  crying.

She was moving so fast the room blurred around her. Daryl was right on her heels, bumping into her as they ran to the back of the room. There were several large, white mail boxes stacked together, some with tops on. The crying was louder over here, hoarse and shrill. Carol started ripping the tops off of boxes, looking quickly inside before tossing each one haphazardly to the side. Daryl was next to her, doing the same thing.

_Please. Please please pleasepleaseplease._

The box was ordinary, nothing to mark it out as special except the top wasn't on all the way, as though the person who packaged it left it loose on purpose. Carol ripped the top off and stared in shock, barely registering Daryl's cry of surprise behind her as she stared at the into the tiny, pale, scrunched up,  _alive_  face of Judith Grimes.


	12. The First New Day

**Chapter 12: The First New Day**

_Everything's squandered, we're destined to wander 't_ _il death kindly opens her door.  
_ _-Dirt Poor Robins, "Tah Dah"_

Two days. Two days and the shrill ringing of Judith's screams still echoed in Daryl's ears, haunting even in the cold silence of the Suburban. He sat in the driver's seat of the Suburban and stared, past the trails of rain making their winding patterns down the car's windshield, past the small crack in the dense greenish-brown wall of leaves that hid them from the main road, catching glimpses of the herd of walkers milling around on the street. The very herd they'd caught sight of hours before, causing them to scramble for a hiding place for their travelling caravan and it's almost-on-empty gas tank.

Daryl really wanted a monster truck to suddenly roll out and flatten the herd into a giant puddle of goo. He chuckled to himself, picturing it.  _Now **that**  would be a fuckin' miracle!_

He turned, the slightly scratchy fabric of the car seat rustling as he moved, craning his neck for a glimpse of his other miracles: Carol was stretched out on the floor of the cab, Judith curled up on her chest and both of them fast asleep. Her feet were tangled with Michonne's, who was sitting upright on the bench itself with Carl's head in her lap. Carl himself was still stretched out on the bench, his feet propped on Rick's supply bag. Rick was sprawled in the passenger seat next to Daryl, snoring slightly. Daryl couldn't see Glenn where he lay amid their meager supplies in the back of the Suburban, but he could just make out the dark figure of Maggie, staring out the window remarkably like Daryl had been just a moment ago. She'd been like that since they'd hurriedly buried what remained of Beth and Hershel. She would eat if someone put food in her mouth, would drink if the bottle was brought to her lips, but that was all. She would not speak, wouldn't sleep, cry or give any acknowledgement of anything happening around her. She just sat and stared out the window, still as a statue and utterly silent.

Daryl worried for her, worried for all of them. The silence between all of them was thick and heavy, full of fear and grief. It had been hours since anyone had said a word. They needed time to mourn, time to plan, time to breathe.

The concept of "personal space" had pretty much been thrown out the window the past days, all of them crammed into one vehicle, the days packed full of scavenging and driving, endless driving as they hunted for somewhere, anywhere, they could hole up. Just for a while, a day; hell, an  _hour_. The car had shrunk in the past 2 days and claustrophobia had set in, every twitch and sniffle from his companions setting his teeth on edge. Daryl knew he shouldn't be complaining, even to himself. It was a miracle they'd all found each other, that they were alive and, with one notable exception, relatively unharmed. And yet…

"Hey."

Daryl jumped at the whispered greeting, spinning in the seat with his hand halfway to his buck knife. Glenn was peering over the top of the bench seat, his expression one of surprised glee mingled with sheepishness for having startled Daryl.

"Fuckin' hell, Glenn," Daryl mumbled as he threw his head back against the headrest of his chair.

"Sorry," Glenn said.

"No ya ain't," Daryl replied, smirking. "Whatcha need?"

"I can't sleep. Can I take watch?"

"Sure."

Daryl quietly popped open the door and climbed out into the rain soaked night, creeping his way around the car and nudging Glenn with his shoulder as they passed each other. He slid into the back of the Suburban, shaking off as much of the rain as he could before worming his way into the small stretch of open space to get some rest. He nodded at Maggie, who took no notice of him. He settled down, curled onto his side, and raised his gaze to the storm drenched window, listening to the unending howls of the wind. If he listened carefully, he could just make out the faint groans of the dead shambling past their hiding place. He let the tips of his fingers brush the knife he kept at his hip.

_Don't think. Just sleep._

Daryl shifted in the tiny space, trying to will himself to relax. It was no good. He wanted space, he wanted to smell the air outside, wanted just an hour alone with Carol. He kicked himself for not taking advantage of the situation back at the house, for not using the time they had to their full advantage. They hadn't had enough time together yet since they'd found each other at the crumbling farm house. Everything had happened so quickly Daryl was half afraid he'd dreamed all of it: Carol herself, the warmth of her against him, the dance of lips and tongue and teeth that had set his very nerves on fire...

He was shaken out of his reverie by the thunk of the back door opening, the car lurching slightly as the object of his thoughts shook drips of water from her hair while Maggie stepped outside. Carol was watching her out of the corner of her eye, trying to keep an eye on Maggie without the girl noticing. Carol waited until Maggie had climbed into the front seat, taking Rick's place, before shutting the door.  _Musical chairs in the fuckin' rain._  Daryl pushed the bags out of the way and stretched his hand out to her, pulling her into him and marveling at how well she fit against him. There was barely an inch between them; Carol was leaning her head back just far enough for him to see her face. His body shook, once, before instantly relaxing. Daryl chuckled at himself, shaking his head.

"What is it?" Carol asked softly.

"Been needin' this all day," Daryl said. She smiled at him, just a small one, but it still made him squirm with happiness that he could make her smile like that.

"Me too," she replied.

"Where's Jude?"

"With Rick," Carol said. "He wanted to hold her while she slept for a while."

"Girl ain't never gonna get put down again," Daryl laughed.

"Can you blame us?"

Daryl sighed, closing his eyes briefly.

"No," he said quietly. "I can't." How could he, when just having Judith alive was something none of them had really been expecting? He sighed again, placing a gentle kiss on tip of Carol's nose. Her fingers were tracing patterns on the small of his back. He ran his hand gently up her arm, fingering the white bandage that still circled her bicep. He peeled back the top a bit, glancing down to see the redness had faded almost entirely from the wound.

"Meds are workin'."

Carol hummed in response, her eyes unfocused. Daryl could practically see the wheels turning in her head. He waited, letting his hand trail up and down her side while she thought.

"It had to have been Beth," Carol finally said.

"Must have been," he agreed. "No way to know for sure but I don't see any other possibilities."

"We'll never know what happened in there."

Daryl didn't answer, just inched down and nuzzled his face into her hair. No, they'd never know what happened to Hershel, or Beth, or how Judith had managed to survive. Did it really matter, in the end? Two more of their family gone forever and now there was no one else to look for.

"So about this meeting-" Carol's whisper was cut off by the tiny whimpers carrying from the front of the car. Daryl recognized Judith's hungry cry and listened to the rustling of cloth as Rick shifted the toddler in his arms. There was the crinkle of plastic and Judith's cry's trailed off.

"Please don't tell me you're feeding her Twinkies," Carol said loud enough for Rick to hear. Daryl bit his tongue, trying to hold back a smirk as he waited for Rick's reply in the lengthening silence.

"Shut up, Carol," Rick finally said. Daryl snickered as Carol rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, giving him a wink and smiling just for him to see. "Hey, it's all we have! At least I'm mashing it up first! It's a soft food," Rick continued defensively.

Daryl lost it completely, snorting his laughter into his hand while Carol buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to hold back her laugh. Rick's chuckles carried over to them as they tried to quiet themselves lest they wake up the rest of the car's occupants.

"Whole fuckin' world comes to an end, hidin' from a bunch of dead things outside an' Rick's feedin' th' baby  _Twinkies_ ," Daryl laughed softly into Carol's ear. She laughed harder, clutching fistfuls of his shirt in her hands as her whole body shook against him from laughing.

"Never a dull moment," she whispered to him.

Daryl nudged at her face with his nose, gently urging her back so he could see her again. Her face was blushed red from laughing, clear blue eyes shining back at him. She was beautiful, flushed and warm against him. Carol raised her hand and gently ran the tips of her fingers across his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, skimming their way soft as a whisper under his eyes and across the ridge of his cheek before sloping down to trace the line of his jaw. Daryl was as still as a statue under her touch, his skin quivering and burning in the wake of her fingers. He ached for more, wanting to hold her to him and feel every inch of her without 6 other people nearby, no car and no clothing in their way. Daryl's heart was beating wildly in his chest as Carol leaned in and placed the softest of kisses against his lip, then another and another. He leaned in as she pulled back and caught her lips in his, nipping gently at her lower lip. He wanted to drown himself in Carol and never come up for air. It was too much, _too much_  and he knew he had to pull back before he went mad.

They stayed together, noses brushing against each other while they quietly gasped for air. Carol's eyes were dark as she stared at him, filled with enough love and longing to make his heart burst.

"Sleep, Daryl," Carol whispered. Daryl closed his eyes as she leaned up and placed tiny kisses on his eyelids. "Sleep, love."

He dreamed of her.

* * *

It was dark still, so early in the morning. Daryl glanced up at the sky as he rolled his neck, working out the stiff kinks from his odd sleeping position in the back of the car, and could tell it was still an hour or so before dawn.

"Think we'll ever be able to sleep through the night again?" Carol asked wryly. Daryl glanced at her and smirked.

"Mind reader," he said. Carol just shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself in the morning chill.

"At least the rain stopped," she said.

 _Fucking **finally**._  The rain had stopped about the time the herd from the road had finally moved on, leaving the earth soaked and the wind cold in its wake and prompting Rick to nudge everyone out of the car for the chance to stretch their legs and have the talk they all had been putting off for days.

Daryl lean against the front passenger door of the Suburban. Carol standing to his left, close enough that he could feel the heat of her on his arm. The door was open and Carl, weary but awake and _aware_ , was sitting up in the seat. The rest formed a half circle around the door, waiting for Rick to finally speak.

"I asked all of you once to make a choice," Rick said, his voice low. "Stay or fight. We chose to fight because that was best for our family then. I think we were right and I won't go back and try to change my opinion on that." He paused, clearing his throat. The chirping sound of one lone cricket swirled in the damp air around them as they waited for him to continue. Daryl hitched his crossbow up on his shoulder, knowing where this was going to lead.

"I have to ask you to make that choice again," Rick finally said. "We're all that's left of this family now and I won't make your choices for you, but we need to know where we all stand."

"It's not even an option," Maggie said suddenly. Her voice was hoarse from lack of use, but sharp. Daryl closed his eyes briefly and tried not to sigh.  _Shit._  "We go back and we kill that son of a bitch," Maggie continued. "Why are we even discussing this?"

"Maggie," Glenn said softly. Daryl glanced at him and didn't envy his friend for the fight he knew was in their future. "We'd never be able to get the him. It's a suicide run."

"You can't be serious," Maggie cried. "My  _father_. My  _sister_. All of those people at the prison, the  _kids_." She turned to Michonne, grabbing at her.

"Rick said it," Michonne said slowly. "We're all that's left of this family now. If we went back to kill the Governor not all of us would make it."

"What about Andrea?" Maggie said fiercely. "She needs to be avenged. So does Merle." She turned to Daryl and he sighed. He'd been thinking about that very thing for days, knowing Rick would eventually bring this up. He could see Carol watching him from the corner of his eye. They hadn't had the chance to discuss it and he had no idea what she was thinking, but Daryl knew where he stood.

"Ain't gonna argue that the Gov'nor owes us a blood debt for all the wrong he's done," Daryl said. "But who d'ya want to go after him? You, Glenn, me, Mich, Rick? Ain't no way we don't lose at least one of us in this, with all of his men an' armor. I'm sick of losing' people."

There was silence after his remark. He felt Carol sigh and lean into him, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment. He watched Maggie, hurting and grieving before all of them with angry tears running down her cheeks.

"So we just run, with our tails between our legs, and let him  _win_?" Maggie cried.

"This isn't about winning." Carl spoke up from the front seat, his voice more hoarse than even Maggie's. He sounded exhausted and infinitely older than the last time Daryl had seen him really awake, back before the prison had fallen.  _Jesus Christ, was that only a week ago? Made the world in 7 days and took about as much time to destroy it again._  "It's about protecting our family and keeping each other safe. What's left of this world is even crazier than before. I don't want him to kill anyone else in this family and if we try to fight him, he will."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at Carl.  _Little sparrow's all grown up. Good boy._  He saw Carol smile at the boy, full of a mix of pride and sorrow.

"What about everyone else he might kill?" Maggie asked. "This isn't  _right_."

And there it was. Daryl knew, they all did, that Maggie had a point. The world had ended with the rising of the dead and now their world had been pulled out from under them again, their loved ones massacred at the hands of a one-eyed madman with delusions of grandeur.

"What about what's left of our family?" Glenn said. "What about Carl and Judith? The bean?" Daryl watched in surprise as Glenn reached out and splayed his hand across Maggie's stomach.  _Hot damn. Nice work, Chinaman._

"Well, shit." Rick rubbed a hand across his face.

"How far along are you," Michonne asked.

Maggie closed her eyes, the tears running faster and faster down her face. "I think I'm just about 11 weeks," she said. "I didn't want to say anything, but then all of this happened..." Maggie broke off, crying into Glenn's shoulder. Another baby coming and there they were discussing going to war or going on the road again.

"Seven fucking hells," Daryl muttered.

"Maggie, honey... There isn't a single one of us here that doesn't know exactly how you feel," Carol said softly. "If finding and killing the monster that killed my baby would bring Sophia back, I'd have been out there seeking out every walker in the country and you'd have never seen me again."

Daryl reached out and clutched her hand, holding it tight in his as he tried to swallow the sudden lump lodged in his throat and wondered, yet again, what he'd done to deserve this quiet, brave woman.

"My daddy-" Maggie started.

"-Would never forgive you if you got yourself or that baby killed trying to avenge him," Michonne finished. "You know that."

Daryl nodded and watched as Maggie chewed her lip and rubbed absently at her belly. The sky was growing lighter, turning the pale grey that comes before the first light of the sun. The cricket had ceased his lonely tune; waiting with them, it seemed, to see what Maggie would say. The silence stretched on and on. Maggie was slumped against Glenn, the fight having gone out of her and looking for all the world like a young girl who just wanted to go back to bed.

"Merle died to give us our best chance at livin'," Daryl said. "We ain't gonna get that here."

Maggie closed her eyes and let out a hiccuping sob as, finally, she nodded. Daryl squeezed Carol's hand and felt her squeeze him back reassuringly. It was done. They were running.

* * *

Half an hour's time was enough for the sky to turn palest pink and orange as the sun threatened to peek over the horizon. They'd rearranged the car to give everyone as much room as possible. Carl was repositioned in the backseat with the last of their fresh bandages wrapped around his arm, thanks to a quick wash with Carol's help. Glenn had filled the tank with the last of their gas cans while Rick fed Judith another of their Twinkie rations, the rest of them munching on Twinkies and stale pretzels while they made themselves ready for the road.

There had been ten minutes of craziness as Maggie had fallen into a complete panic attack, crying hysterically and shrieking at the sky, the birds, Rick, Glenn, anything and anyone she could. It had taken Glenn, Michonne and Carol to calm her down, Carol whispering over and over in the girl's ear that they would take care of her and the baby. He worried about Carol, now officially the only doctor they had and knowing how personally she took everything on, and vowed to himself he'd keep an even closer eye on her in the days and weeks to come. He wasn't going to lose her now, especially not to herself. Maggie was settled in the very back of the car with Glenn, having finally worn herself out enough that Glenn thought he could get her to sleep.

Daryl stood at the edge of the road, listening to the chirping erupting around him as the birds called out their morning songs, blissfully unaware that anything was different about the world.

"Larks," Carol said as she came up behind him.

"Coupla sparrows in there too, I think," he replied.

Carol wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his back, just between his shoulder blades. He clasped his hands over hers where they met around his chest and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. He checked on the thumb of his other hand, gnawing nervously as thoughts rolled around in his head. He wanted to ask her,  _needed_  to ask her, because if anyone would understand why it'd be Carol, but he hedged at having even Carol see this tiny part of him.  _It's a bit late to back down now, Dixon._

"D'you... " Daryl started then stopped, trying to slow the crushing sensation filling his chest. "D'you think he'll understand?" There. It was out now. He felt rather than heard Carol sigh against his back.

"Of course," she said softly. "Merle never wanted you to be in harm's way, not if he could help it. It's why he did what he did." She knew. Of course she knew. His little mind reader. Daryl brought her hands to his lips and gently kissed her fingers. They were cold in the damp morning air and he blew on them, trying to warm them up, before he turned and pulled Carol into his arms. He rested his cheek on her head, letting her burrow into the crook of his neck and bury her cold nose against his skin. They stayed like that a while, watching the colors in the sky turn more vibrant as morning started to make its way upon them.

"Ready?" he finally asked.

"No," Carol laughed softly. "But I'll go anyway because I'm with you."

 _God, **Carol**._  Daryl leaned down and kissed her fiercely, holding her tight against him as he let his tongue caress hers. She was clutching him back with all of her might, as caught up in the moment as he was. He was hers, inside and out, and knew that she was his just as completely. Daryl broke the kiss and tilted his forehead against hers.  _My sweet Carol._

"Let's go, baby," he said softly. Carol's smile, to him, could have lit up the whole sky.

They made their way back to the Suburban just as Michonne closed the back door, striding her way to meet them at the side of the car.

"Looks like you get first shift at the wheel," she said as she tossed the keys to Daryl. He nodded and climbed into the driver's seat. His crossbow was in the passenger's seat and Carol moved it to rest at her feet as she settled into the chair. Michonne sat next to Carl on the bench, Rick on the boy's other side. Daryl turned and glanced quickly around the car, earning a quick nod from Rick. They were ready.

As Daryl turned the key in the ignition, he heard Carl start to sing to his siser, nestled sleepily in the crook of his arm.

"Don't worry... about a thing..."

Carol reached over and threaded her fingers through Daryl's, leaving their joined hands clasped on top of the gearshift as they drove towards the highway.

"...'cause every little thing gonna be all right..."

The sun broke over the horizon as the Suburban hit the pavement and turned, taking the road that would lead them out of Georgia and into the great beyond.

* * *

_**A/N:**  Oh, my friends. My beautiful, beautiful friends. We have come to the end of this tale of mine. I am simultaneously overjoyed and completely heartbroken to say goodbye to my baby. This was my first, real multi-chapter _ _fic in almost 10 years, my first Caryl fic, my first Walking Dead fic. The response I have received from all of you has been completely overwhelming and wonderful. I have had the great fortune to make so many new friends as a result of this. I am in awe of you, your talents and the support the Caryl community gives to one another. You inspire me. Thank you for taking the time to read this. (I still think this is all nonsense but y'all seem to like it, so yay!) Thank you for those of you who have left reviews and built up my little shipper, baby writer heart._

_For Noxi, imorca, ed-geins-tailor, twisted-and-ginger, resurrectionofannabellee - my loves, my tumblr peeps. And Peta2 and SOAlovingmom, for protecting me from trolls and saving my sanity on a regular basis._


	13. Epilogue: In the Cold Mid-Winter

_**A/N** **:** Just when you thought I was done... Hell, just when  **I**  thought I was done! No one is more surprised than I am that this was written. I really thought I'd left TLB behind. This is entirely vickih's fault. She left me a prompt on 'Tea & Firelight' that turned into this. So... yeah. I SWEAR I'm done after this! Really. I am.  
_

_Oh yeah... I feel as though I earned the M rating for this story for all the blood, gore and violence I threw into it. Now I'm earning it for adult activities. My first time writing such. Enjoy!  
_

_**Disclaimer:**  Y'all still think I own anything? Seriously? I don't own squat. I just show up and play with the toys when I think no one is looking..._

* * *

**Epilogue: In the Cold Mid-Winter**

_(7 months later)_

Snow crunched under Daryl's feet with every step he took, despite his best efforts to be quiet. He hadn't adjusted to hunting here, the frigid West Virginian winter showering them with more snow than he'd ever seen before. He'd been off his game a bit since they'd first crossed the border out of Georgia, hunting in woods that weren't his. He hated to admit it, but he  _missed_  Georgia, from its sweltering heat and steamy rainfall to the smell of yellow jasmine and the crunch of hickory nuts under his feet as he hunted. Daryl allowed that West Virginia wasn't so bad, though. ' _Cept for all the fuckin' snow._

A glance upward told him he was starting to lose daylight and he quickened his pace, following the markers he'd discreetly placed to help guide him around the unfamiliar terrain back to the snare traps he'd set the day before. Daryl itched, now that this chore was finished, to get back to the others. He'd been gone longer than he'd planned, but working to cover his tracks as best he could in the deep snow and keeping a sharp eye for anything that seemed out of place had slowed his progress considerably. He already had a fat snowshoe hare slung over his shoulder, but pickings were slim this time of year and the other two traps he'd set had come up empty today.

He took at the top of a hill and leaned against the trunk of a weathered pine tree, sucking in a deep breath. Despite the bitter chill, the air was crisp and Daryl relished the clean scent filling his nose. The air of the old administration building that was serving as their camp was damp, stale and slightly sour, enough to give Daryl a perpetual headache. He took a moment to rest and stretch his arms, the cold seeping into his bones making him stiff and sore. He was almost back to the abandoned mining town they were currently camping in; he could already spot the crumbling iron tower of the tipple and knew that in it's long shadow was the old administration building that hid his family. The town had signs of being abandoned long before the outbreak hit, just a remnant of American history lying forgotten in the mountain. It was the safest place they'd found in months and not a moment too soon, Carol having deemed Maggie unfit for further travel until after the birth of the baby. Daryl sighed, hitching the rabbit's carcass higher on his shoulder as he started his trek down into the valley.

It didn't take him long to reach the valley floor. He moved faster now, sticking to the shadows between the dilapidated houses that lined the town's only road as he made his way towards the coal mine. He stopped at the last house, leaving the open space of a hundred yards or between him and the mine administration offices. He whistled out one of his old hunting calls; seconds later, it echoed back to him at a slighter higher pitch, the signal indicating it was safe for him to sprint across the open space and through the door being held open for him.

"Welcome back," Michonne said quietly. "Anything good out there?"

"Jus' this." Daryl passed over the hare, shrugging off the heavy, flannel lined coat he'd picked up somewhere in Kentucky when the weather had started to turn and letting it drape over the back of a nearby chair.

"It'll do for tonight," Michonne replied. She turned to make her way towards the space they'd turned into her kitchen. Daryl grimaced behind her back; it was Michonne's turn to cook, which meant he needed to mentally prepare his stomach for charred rabbit stew.

Daryl caught the barest drift of Michonne's mutterings, her hatred of winter having been made well known to the group. He tried to hide his smirk as he made his way down the hall. A few doors were open; he caught a glimpse of Glenn and Maggie in one, stretched out on top of their sleeping bags, Glenn rubbings his hand across Maggie's swollen belly. Any day now and that belly would produce a tiny baby; a girl, according to Maggie's adamant declarations over the past seven months. Daryl had refrained from joining the group's betting pool on the sex of the baby, not wishing to incur the wrath of the temperamental pregnant woman by making the wrong guess. Maggie's pregnancy had been a long and emotional road for all of them. He wondered how much of it was the hormones Carol and Michonne kept reminding him of and how much of it was Maggie herself, still working through her grief like the rest of them.

They were all haunted by the spectres of those they'd lost. Nightmares were a common thing, particularly from Glenn, Carl and Carol, and they'd all become familiar with each other's cries in the night, taking it in turn to comfort each other as best they could. Daryl had lost count of the hours he'd spent with his arms wrapped around Carol, whispering anything he could think of in his efforts to ease the helpless trembling of her body as she buried her face in his chest and tried to shake off her dreams. It was rare for Carol to sleep through the night now. Daryl woke often in the night, reaching out for her to find her awake, her mind in places he couldn't always follow her to. Some days Daryl found himself hovering around her more than usual, loathe to leave her for even a second for reasons he couldn't quite place. He knew he drove her crazy on those days; it had been a long time since she'd  _needed_  him to defend her. He'd made well sure of that.

He knew she loved him because, even on those days, she never made him leave.

The door that housed the Grimes family was shut. He could make out the sounds of Rick playing with his daughter. He smiled at hearing Judith's high pitched baby ramblings. She'd started crawling several weeks ago, adding a list of extra concerns to keep in mind whenever they stopped and searched for potential places to rest. She still hadn't said her first word but Daryl had secretly spent many long afternoons, whenever it was his turn to watch her, trying to coax her into saying his name. He had a feeling Carol was onto him, but hotly denied it whenever she tried to bring it up. He didn't hear Carl, which wasn't surprising. He had a feeling he knew where Carl was.

Daryl stopped outside the engineer's office that he and Carol had claimed for their own, leaning against the door frame and folding his arms across his chest as he watched the scene inside. Just as he'd suspected, Carol wasn't alone in their room. Carl was sitting across from her, the two of them lost in quiet conversation. It was a common sight nowadays. Carl sought out Carol's company more than anyone else, much to Rick's chagrin.

Daryl hardly noticed Carl, though. It was  _she_  who captured his attention, every muscle in his body relaxing as he drank in the sight of her. Daryl took his time, letting his eyes roam over every inch of her: the slight upturn of her nose, the graceful slope of her neck, the dark silver curls that tumbled around her ears and brushed the tops of her shoulders. His body burned, the bracing cold long forgotten in the wake of his urge to touch her, hold her, bury himself in her.  _His Carol._

"Hey, man."

Carl's greeting shook Daryl from his thoughts. Carl was smirking, giving a side glance to the blush gracing Carol's cheeks. Daryl realized he'd been caught staring and felt his own cheeks burn.  _Whoops._

"Hey, kid," Daryl replied. He ignored the roll of Carl's eyes at being called 'kid', knowing Carl wasn't actually offended by it. "I miss anythin' fun today?"

"Dad swears Judith is gonna start walking any day now," Carl said. "She managed to pull herself onto her feet by holding onto a chair today. I thought he was going to faint."

"Lord help us when that lil' girl starts walkin'," Daryl grinned. "We'll never catch 'er."

"Nope," Carl said as he pushed himself to his knees. Daryl quickly crossed the room and gently grasped Carl's remaining arm, helping him to his feet. Carl had physically recovered well but still struggled with balance occasionally, especially when he was tired. Daryl knew the boy was exhausted today; they all were. The last week had been rough on all of them as they pushed for shelter.

"I'm gonna go sleep for a while. I have second watch tonight," Carl said. "Wake me up for dinner?"

"Of course, sweetie," Carol replied softly. She was still seated; Daryl could tell she was barely even listening to them as her long fingers fiddled with the tattered hair tie she wore on her left wrist. Carl quickly leaned down and dropped a kiss on the top of Carol's head, earning a small smile in return.

"Thanks, Care," he said as he moved towards the door. Daryl smirked at the nickname and bumped the boy's good shoulder with his own as Carl stepped around him to leave the room. Glenn and Carl had both taken to calling Carol 'Care', saying it suited her perfectly since she took care of everyone. Daryl had to agree even though he never said it himself. Everyone had picked up instinctively that the name was a privilege given  _only_  to Carl and Glenn. The others just called her by her name. He didn't mind. He had his own name for her.

"Hi, baby," he whispered as he dropped to his knees beside her. It earned him a smile, a  _real_  smile, as Carol leaned in to grace him with a gentle kiss that made his toes curl.

"Hi," she murmured. "How was hunting?"

"Found us a rabbit for dinner," Daryl replied. He could barely think, full of the scent and feel of her under his lips as he nibbled a wandering trail down the column of her neck. "'Chonne's got it."

"Oh god, not again," Carol laughed. It tapered off into a long moan as Daryl lapped at the hollow of her throat, curling his arms around her as she leaned back to give him more room. " _Daryl_."

They hadn't had much of a chance to be alone together, the constant confined quarters they'd shared on the road removing the last vestiges of any privacy for all of them. They caught moments together when they could, but the continual press for survival in their small group ensured that, on most of the occasions they tried, Daryl barely got to second base before someone was clamoring for their attention with another task that needed doing. He could count on one hand the number of times in seven months they'd managed to sneak away long enough for their random fumblings to be something more. The last time had been almost three months ago, time and circumstances of the road not on their side.

Time still wasn't on their side; the sound of someone calling Carol's name broke through Daryl's consciousness and he pulled away from her with an unhappy groan.

"One day ain't so much to ask," he grumbled.

"Hush," Carol chided him gently. "We all have things to do."

"You do more than the rest of us," Daryl replied. "Between doctorin', takin' care of Jude, cookin'-"

"Stop," she said. "Not today, okay?"

Daryl sighed, nuzzling his nose along the outline of her collarbone.

"Where ya at today?" he asked softly.

"I just..." She trailed off and looked away from him, letting her arms drop from his shoulders back into her lap. Daryl glanced down to see her twisting the hair tie on her wrist.  _Sophia's_  hair tie, the only physical remnant left of the girl. He knew where her thoughts were today.

"The closer the baby gets to coming, the more I..." Carol started, then stopped again. "I know I shouldn't think like that."

"She's proud of you," Daryl said firmly. "I know it." His tone left no room for argument and she knew it. He could tell the moment she surrendered to him, leaning in to gift him with another lingering kiss.

"OK," she said. She was back with him, Daryl could see it in her eyes when she finally raised them to his. The dark thoughts banished, Carol was in control and ready to take on the rest of their day with her usual grace and quiet strength. It was in these moments, when she pulled herself up and forward like this with barely a twitch to give hint to her inner struggles, that Daryl remembered how strong she truly was. It nearly bowled him over to see it; she was a goddess,  _his_  goddess, and not for the first time he wanted to fall to his knees and worship at her feet. Daryl leaned forward and caught her lips in his, his heart leaping into his throat when he felt her respond to him at the visible proof that  _she_  wanted  _him_ as much as he wanted her.  _I'm the luckiest bastard to ever breathe air._

The sound of Carol's name being called again echoed down the hall and she pulled away from him with a sigh.

"Sounds like I need to go rescue dinner," she smiled as she unwound herself from his grasp.

"Better go then, 'fore I make ya change your mind." Daryl pressed a quick kiss to her palm before waving her off. Carol laughed as she left the room, leaving him alone to stretch his tired body out on the cushion of the thick sleeping bag.

"First time in months we got a place with doors," he mumbled. Doors were good. The chance for privacy, so rare and precious these days, made him smile, his heart picking up a faster beat in his chest as he contemplated the possibilities. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with that privacy if given the chance. Daryl had  _plans_.

* * *

"How the hell did you survive on the road for so long?" Carol asked as she turned the chunks of slightly charred rabbit in the pan.

"Hey," Michonne protested. "I can cook!"

"Without a microwave?"

The silence stretched out for a long moment. Carol bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Shut up," Michonne finally grumbled, not unkindly. Carol hid her smile behind her hand, trying not to offend her friend.

"Tell you what," she said. "Go check on Maggie for me and I'll finish your dinner shift tonight. Deal?"

"Done." Michonne breathed a sigh of relief. She bolted from the room, twitchy in her need to be doing something,  _anything_ , other than cooking. There was a thunk from the hall and Carol turned her head, wondering if the normally sure-footed warrior had managed to trip or run into something in her mad dash from their makeshift kitchen.

"Oh, don't mind me!" Glenn's voice trailed in from the hall. "I'm cool!"

Carol snorted with laughter, turning back to her cooking as Glenn came in. He sniffed the air and sighed heavily.

"Please tell me its not black again," he said.

"It's not. I got to it in time," Carol reassured him.

"Oh good." Glenn meandered over and gave an approving look at the cooking meat. "Stew?"

"Seems easiest."

"Want a hand?"

Glenn was a good cooking companion, surprisingly comfortable in the kitchen. He'd rarely cooked before the prison; since they'd left Georgia, he'd taken over more responsibility and was part of the regular chef rotation. Carol was impressed with her young friend's hidden talent and regularly teased him about making her suffer as camp chef for so long.

They worked quickly and soon enough the meat was stewing in a pot of vegetables and broth taken from their meager stash of canned goods. There wasn't much else to do after that but wait, so Glenn and Carol settled down at the small desk they were using as a dining table and played with the deck of cards Glenn had produced from his back pocket.

"You have the worst poker face ever," Glenn said as he won the sixth hand in a row.

"We're playing  _two man poker_ ," Carol huffed.

"That has nothing to do with your crappy poker face," Glenn replied cheerfully.

"Pipe down, chuckles."

"Oooooh, I'm so scared." Glenn stuck his tongue out at Carol and flicked one of his playing cards at her. It flew past her face, just skimming the rise of her brow.

"Did you just throw a card at my face? What are you, five?"

"Awwww, did the wittle cawd huwt you?"

""Don't make  _me_  hurt you."

"Bring it, lady!"

"DARYL!"

"That's cheating!" Glenn cried. "Come on, don't make me run away from a crazy, crossbow wielding redneck in the  _snow_."

"That's what you get for throwing cards and sassing your superiors," Carol sniffed.

"You mean 'elders'."

"Nope. I had it right the first time."

They were both red in the face. Glenn slumped forward and buried his face in his arms on the tabletop, his body shaking with laughter. Carol leaned back in her chair, wiping tears of mirth off her face as she tried to catch her breath. Carol's face hurt from smiling, but she couldn't bring herself to stop until she saw the shadow of something else flit across Glenn's face as he calmed down.

"What?" she asked softly.

His eye twitched, once, before he nodded to himself.

"I'm so scared," Glenn whispered.

"Of which part?" Carol asked. She knew, they all did, that there was plenty to be scared of. She leaned forward and caught his hands in hers.

"Parenting, mostly," Glenn murmured. "This endless wandering is killing us. Maggie is barely stable and the bean is due any day now. It's so much on top of everything else and I don't know what is going to happen. What if I can't do this?"

Carol smiled sadly, brushing her thumbs over Glenn's fingers as she tried to work out how to respond. Glenn was the closest she'd ever had to a brother and she loved him fiercely. She hated seeing him like this, knowing that the normal tension of impending fatherhood coupled with their real survival issues were causing him genuine distress. She knew uncertainty, knew what it was to doubt what a person could be capable of. Hadn't that been their whole lives for years now? Death was the only certainty they had left, yet they still strived to hope for something better before it came for them.

"Do you remember being a kid?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Glenn said slowly.

"All the crazy stuff we do as kids... Climbing trees, chasing bugs, building rocket ships out of cardboard boxes, jumping off the garage roof to see if we could fly."

"Yeah." Glenn shrugged, smiling slightly.

"We were fearless as children," Carol continued. "When we fall, we cried a little, then just dusted ourselves and carried on."

"What does that have to do with the price of beans in Mexico?"

"I'm getting there," Carol laughed softly. "When we were kids, we couldn't predict the future. You didn't know that jumping off the garage roof was going to break your arm."

"I'm starting to regret telling you that story," Glenn muttered.

"But we learned along the way we could influence it." Carol continued, ignoring Glenn's comment. "If you wanted to see more of the world, you learned to climb the tree. If you wanted to go to the moon, you built a rocket ship. If you wanted to fly, you learned jumping off the garage roof is not the way to do that."

Glenn drummed his fingers on the table, his face grim. Carol waited, giving him a chance to take in what she was saying.

"How come you're never worried or upset?" Glenn suddenly asked.

"Sweetie," Carol said gently. "Have you never met me?! I worry  _all the time_. I'm scared about how we're going to survive. We  _all_ are. That won't change, not today. Not tomorrow. The closer that baby comes, the more I worry and the more I can't stop thinking about things that just...  _hurt_."

A flash of movement by the door caught her eye; she glanced up and could just make out the figure of Daryl hovering in the hallway.  _Eavesdropper. Wonder how much he's heard._

"How do you make it stop?" Glenn whispered.

"I don't," Carol said. "I just keep going anyway."

Glenn leaned forward and brought their joined hands to his face. Carol swallowed thickly.  _Oh, little brother._

"My point is, stop second guessing yourself," Carol said. "Maggie, the bean? That is something I  _know_ you can handle. You'll know it too, the second the bean shows up."

Glenn raised watery eyes to hers and smiled, nodding his head again. She knew they'd have this conversation again, and again; all of them would in some variation. She was willing to repeat herself for however many times she had to, for all of them. Her little family.

"Thanks, Care."

"Always."

* * *

Daryl followed Carol into their room, shutting the door behind him with a soft  _snikt_. Dinner had been long cleaned up and everyone settled into their respective rooms. Maggie and Carol had announced that the baby had dropped, whatever that meant, and had shown off Maggie's stomach after dinner. Daryl hadn't been able to see much difference, but had nodded along anyway.

It was dark outside, the night clear with the glow of a full moon cascading off the glittering snow outside. The light peeked in through the cracks in the window covers, giving them just enough light to make their way around the room without turning their lantern on and wasting precious oil.

"The baby's coming," Carol said unexpectedly. Daryl twitched, his eyes jumping to her as she faced him in the dark room. He could just barely make her out in the dim glow from the light outside.

"That's what it means, having the baby drop," Carol said. "It's moving into position for delivery. We've got another day, maybe two."

"Oh," he said. " _Oh._ " Life was about to get a little more hectic for their family, very quickly. "So enjoy the quiet while it lasts."

"Pretty much," Carol said with a laugh as she kicked off her boots.

"Better do a long hunt then," he muttered. "Might take 'Chonne with me. Maybe Carl, brush him up on tracking while we're out. Been a bit since he got a lesson."

"That'd be good," Carol said as she knelt down and pulled the top of the sleeping bag back.

"Wait," Daryl said softly.

Carol let the fabric fall from her hand, rising to her feet again. His eyes were adjusting to the dim light; he could see the quizzical expression crossing her features.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

Daryl gulped, his courage suddenly fleeing him despite his plans. In the three times they'd been together, they'd never been fully naked with each other, time and circumstance forcing their encounters to be quicker than either of them had wanted.

The first time, his  _first_  time, had been horribly fast, with him barely inside of her before the sensation of her wet warmth had become too much for him, leaving him slumped against her as he tried to remember how to breathe. He'd been so  _humiliated_ , but one look at her smile had left him breathless all over again. She'd kissed him on the nose and simply told him he was perfect. The next time, weeks later, had been almost as quick for him. His whole body had flamed red with embarrassment until she'd guided his fingers and showed him what to do. The following nights had had him twisting and turning in his sleep, the delicious memory of her moans taunting him and leaving his skin burning with wanting. The third time, almost three months ago, had gone much better; Daryl using his fingers and his tongue on her first until Carol had literally pounced on him, both of them coming so hard their cries had echoed through the trees back to the rest of the camp. To their credit, no one had said a word to it about either of them but the knowing looks and barely hidden grins had left Carol and Daryl both blushing and unable to look anyone in the eyes for days on end. There hadn't been the chance since to be alone and they'd been left to satisfy themselves with a simple kiss and a brief embrace before bed each night.

Now, in the face of the opportunity to be truly alone, with an actual door between them and everyone else, Daryl found himself as nervous as he was that first night again. His hands shook and he curled his arms across his chest, the nervousness of having all his worldly armor stripped away, of being so exposed even before Carol, suddenly too huge to control.

" _Oh_ ," Carol said softly, understanding flitting across her face. She crossed the room to him, her smile sweet and genuine, and laid a cool palm across his cheek. "Are you sure?"

It was  _ridiculous_  how well she knew him, knew he hated the thought of anyone seeing his scars. He could shake his head, tell her no, and she'd leave it without a second thought. He could nod his head, but tell her to leave his shirt on and she would. For him. Because that was Carol's way, always giving him room to be himself with her, without explanation or apology.

The thought was in and out of his head in less a second, taking his fear with his. He let his hands reach out and grasp her hips, pulling her closer to him as he nodded.  _No going back._

"Are  _you_  sure?" he asked her.

Slowly, carefully, Carol reached out and flicked open the buttons on his shirt, one by one, until it draped open. He let his hands leave her so she could slip the fabric off his shoulders, down his arms and toss it in the corner.

"As sure as I've been about anything in my whole life," Carol said.

Daryl sucked in a deep breath, drowning in the tide of emotion he could feel sweeping over both of them. He cradled her face in his hands and leaned down. The kiss was slow and almost drowsy; a kiss that said they had all the time in the world.

Time became elastic, stretching out like ripples on a pond with nothing at the center but the two of them. Hands fumbled with buttons and cloth, peeling layer upon layer of covering away until there was nothing between them. Daryl could feel the bumps and ridges of her scars under his hands; smaller than his own, but no less painful a reminder of the life she'd lived before, and knew she felt the same as her hands ghosted over his back.

She grasped his shoulders as he fell back against the bed, his hands splayed around her rib cage so he could feel her heart beating like a hammer inside her; proof that despite everything that had happened, she was  _alive_ , she was here with him. The thought filled him so quickly he nearly broke down with stupid joy.  _Carol_ was the thing he'd been missing his whole life; funny how it took the end of the world for him to find her.

Feeling her heart shifted perfectly logically to palming her breasts. They were small and soft, except when her nipples pressed into his hands and she gasped through their kiss, pushing her hips down onto his thigh as he stroked them. Her fingertips grazed over his chest in return and when she touched him over the same spot his body went up to meet hers, arcing from his pelvis as he rained kisses on to her skin. It was cold in their dark corner of the world, but Carol was warm over him, pulling him into her with wandering hands as she covered every inch of skin with her eager mouth. Time ticked by in its fashion, marked only by the symphony of gasps, moans and gentle sighs that filled the air around them.

The light filtering in through the slats of the window coverings had shifted until only a few beams remained high on the wall to show the fading of the winter moon when Carol finally took him inside of her, one hand on his hip and the other clenched in one of his, linking their fingers together tight enough that Daryl was certain she'd have marks to show for it in the morning. His shoulders pushed back as his hips jerked upwards, letting her rise with him then fall back, their rhythm unsteady but no less than perfect as far as he was concerned. He watched her moan and bit her lip, the faint edges of a smile flirting around the corners of her mouth as she rode him until he couldn't take it anymore, pushing himself up on one arm to kiss her fiercely before falling back with a groan.

The rhythm smoothed out as they found one another, Carol letting the tiniest of whimpers escape her with each downward rock of her hips. Daryl could barely breathe, blood pounding in his ears mingling with everything that was Carol and making his head spin until he couldn't take anymore. He grasped at her and rolled them so she was pinned beneath him, the resulting purr of his name stuttering from her lips enough to make his heart stop. All he could see was the blue of her eyes, locked onto his and unwavering as they moved, heads turned so they were forehead to forehead, his mouth a fraction of an inch from hers. She was all he could feel, the silky motion of hair, lips, skin and sex that filled him over and over again and he knew he would never get enough of her. He knew he was babbling, useless words that sound like utter nonsense which Carol swallowed in kisses as he kept moving into her until finally her back arched into him, his name tumbling from her lips as she tightened and coiled around him. Spots danced in his vision as everything inside him tipped over, following her down into sweet oblivion.

* * *

Carol woke nestled into the curve of Daryl's body, his arms heavy and warm around her and their legs tangled together inside the flannel sleeping bag. She shifted, trying to ease the ache between her legs and felt the answering twitch of his hardness against her hip.

"'S too early," Daryl mumbled as he nuzzled his face deeper into the small pillow they shared.

"I know," she replied softly. The air was bitterly cold against her skin as she reached up to crack open their makeshift window covering, craning her head to peer out at the morning sky. Dark thunderheads swirled past the tops of the trees over their head, the few bits of sunlight daring to peek through slowly fading as more clouds moved in. Carol sighed and clicked the cover back into place. Carol settled back against him, letting the heat from his body warm her back up. Their noses brushed together as she leaned back enough to see his face. She let her eyes roam over every inch of him, taking in every scar, every line, dip and freckle before settling onto the clear, warm blue of his eyes.  _Home._

"Storm's coming."

"Always does," Daryl said. "We'll be all right, baby."

Carol smiled. "I know."

* * *

_**A/N 2:**  To everyone who has read & reviewed this story of mine, thank you from the bottom of my cold little heart. This would never have become what it did without you. _


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